


Fire Breather

by PoshelNahuy



Category: Fallout 76
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Shameless Smut, mlm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoshelNahuy/pseuds/PoshelNahuy
Summary: (I've never been good at summaries. Also subtle timeline changes, but nothing major.)Hank Madigan's life changes when he meets Bear.
Relationships: Hank Madigan/OC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Mauled

January 11th 2082

His route had deviated hopelessly northward and he was forced to skirt the imposing cliff faces of the Seneca Rocks, leading him off course to the long abandoned town of Monongah. Despite the obstacle that faced him now, Hank Madigan’s resolve had only been bolstered by the harsh conditions and lonesome nights. 

He knew he made the right call to go AWOL from the BOS when he heard Elder Maxson’s new modus operandi. 

“Preserve technology at all costs, what a load of fuckin’ bullshit,” He grumbled as he unfolded his map and flattened it onto the weathered table that lay before him. 

He had become part of the original Taggerdy’s Thunder when the bombs dropped almost five years ago. Back then it had just been two companies of Army and Marine soldiers who just so happened to be at Camp Venture when shit hit the fan. Hank was a veteran and former Marine on sabbatical from his job at the Charleston Fire Department and he thought it sounded fun to join his fellow Marines in the war games.

When the apocalypse came, they had all thought it was just a secret twist added to make things more interesting and realistic. 

Hanks supplies weren’t going to last him the rest of the way, a fact apparent by how light his duffle bag had become, but he knew he could go a day or two without food just fine as his eyes studied the paper map spread out in-front of him. 

His finger traced the 95 until it connected with highway 64, plotting a path that he could easily follow incase of snow-blindness or some other snag that would make cutting through the wilderness dangerous at this point in his journey. He’d had good luck so far, but Hank was a superstitious man. Pushing that luck now when he was so close to Morgantown didn’t bode well with him.

The severe wind whistled through the cracks in the small house he’d taken shelter in, making the old, neglected structure creak and rattle in protest. He spoke to the home, apologising for his trespass and how grateful he was that it hadn’t collapsed on him yet. Six days with no one else to talk to, talking to himself had become a sort of comfort for Hank. 

“Hey, I know how you feel,” He muttered to the empty house, “You lost your family. World’s over. Shit’s gone to hell, but I know what you know. These bones are still standing because of the memories. They give you strength.” 

His eyes drifted to the threshold to the kitchen where he could see the recorded heights of at least three children. It stopped abruptly at half his height. Hank rubbed his hand over his mouth, suppressing the sudden urge to sob uncontrollably at the thought of those poor kids and several thousands like them that never stood a chance.

“Fucking hell,” He reigned himself in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and run his palms over his tightly curled hair. Hank cradled himself for a moment, trying desperately to keep the people lost during the Great War on his mind but not let them take root. If he let the ghosts take hold, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to be considered alive enough to make a difference for the living anymore.

Hank leaned back in the chair, it’s woven wicker bottom squeaking as he twisted around to snag the pack of smokes he’d salvaged maybe two days ago. He quit before the war, but with things as bleak as they were the bad habits had reared their ugly heads on him. 

He lit the cigarette and just let it dangle from his lip as the acrid smoke filled his nostrils. The momentary comfort of nicotine barely covered the screaming thoughts in the back of his mind, but there was nothing more he could do about it without a bottle of whiskey to chase it with. 

“My mama would whoop me if she knew I’d put you fuckers in my mouth again,” He sighed, letting the matter fall to the wayside easily as he recollected what she used to say. “I ain’t having two coal burnin’ locomotives in this house.” 

For a fleeting moment the memory made him chuckle, but just as soon as the bitter-sweet bliss registered he was once again back at square one. Hank reclined and closed his eyes to get a few moments of rest. The sun would rise soon, and all he had to do now was wait. 

He almost drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the cherry of his cigarette smoldering out in the tray where it lay, when he heard the unmistakable crunch of boots in the snow just outside. 

The door to the cabin swung open and slammed into the wall next to it causing Hank to reflexively recoil and grab his gun. He aimed his sights dead center of the stranger’s chest, but wavered as he saw the state of the man as the light of the dying fireplace slowly illuminated his frail figure. 

He was just a skinny little thing, maybe in his early twenties, and absolutely covered in frost and ragged gore. Hank almost couldn’t tell from where he stood just how brutalized this man was, but as he inched closer he could see that he had suffered a savage mauling. “What the hell-” 

Hank dropped his gun, letting it fall to his side as the strap snapped tightly over his chest, and he rushed over to guide the wounded man to the only flat surface available. Just one touch, as his arm supported the man by the waist, and Hank could feel the warmth of the stranger's blood soaking into his sleeve. He laid the man on the table, careful to position him on his less damaged right side. 

The flurry of his next movements were automatic as his body reacted before his mind had fully understood what was going on. 

The young man’s left ear dangled from where it should be, scalped from his skull to the bone from cheek and upwards dangerously close to his temple. Another two thick cuts rested on his swollen brow and lip, but they were small enough that Hank could ignore them to focus on the more serious injuries. The head wound looked fresh, dark fluid still trickled from the torn skin, but Hank knew that wasn’t the only place. When he had his arm around the man’s small frame he could feel more there. 

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch, okay?” Hank got to work peeling away layers of tattered clothes, the remnants of a thick winter jacket and a honey-comb patterned undershirt that used to be gray. Whoever this man was, he was at least somewhat prepared for the elements, but he clearly hadn’t expected whatever tried to make a meal out of him. 

The man hissed through his red stained teeth as Hank tried to pull the clothing away, at times having to go as far as dig his fingers into the wounds to untangle the fabric that seemed to weave with the flesh.

He expected the man to scream, but the fact that he wasn’t told Hank everything he needed to know. This was what shock looked like. Hank had seen it before during Anchorage. 

Hank tossed the shredded clothing aside and assessed the damage for the briefest of seconds, knowing that he didn’t have much time to decide which gushing wound to treat first. He snatched some spare clothing from his duffle bag and tore it up into hasty strips of make-shift bandaging to temporarily stop the bleeding until he could boil some snow for clean water to wash the injuries before they became too infected.

Stop the bleeding. Wash the wounds. 

The command repeated in his head as his hands worked mechanically to patch up the chest and back where the claw and tooth marks were the worst. One deep cut that stretched over the man’s breast threatened to pierce his sternum, and several more like it criss-crossed his back. It looked like he had managed to roll onto his stomach in an attempt to prevent himself from being disemboweled, but at the cost of his shoulders and arms resembling fresh ground meat more than human flesh. 

Hank had seen worse during the war, things he’d rather forget, but it still made him almost sick witnessing just how much agony a person could endure. He knew this one was barely clinging to life by the steady, rasping breeze of his breath, and so long as there was even the slightest chance he would survive Hank would do everything he could.

Finally, after doing his best to stem the bleeding, he carried on with the next task. 

Hank returned after a brief time outside with packed snow in hand and he hurried over to the pot that dangled over the fireplace. He could hear the squeak of tortured lungs as the young man’s mouth moved, his voice almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire. He moved closer, knowing that if he were in this state and probably about to speak his last he’d want someone to listen. 

“I’m still here? Goddamn.” He had a thick Appalachian drawl and a lethargic smile that contrasted with the rest of his gruesome face. It left a profound impression on Hank. Almost as though he could see what he looked like before the mauling. 

His body laid perfectly still with the only exception being his blood-splattered chest rising and falling shallowly just enough for Hank to see. 

“That’s right, you’re still here,” Hank leaned to the pot and fished out a boiled rag to start washing the young man up before he felt ready to rebandage the wounds. “I’m gonna clean you up as best I can, and after that I’ll take you to a doctor, okay?”

He turned and saw the stranger digging in his mouth with his grimy fingers.

“The hell are you doing?” Hank wanted to yank the hand away, but he hesitated. He didn’t want to cause further harm to a man already knocking on death’s door.

The stranger grunted in effort as his fingers continued working until Hank heard an almost imperceptible pop as he casually pulled out one of his top canine teeth and tossed it aside. “Got my damn tooth punched loose.” 

Even a battle-hardened man like Hank had to take a moment of pause. He was baffled, sure, but also weirdly impressed. 

“You got any Med-X...whiskey...anything…” The man rolled onto his back with a wet slap, seemingly so far gone he was numb to the pain. His shaky hand slapped at the front pockets of his pants like a drunk looking for his keys. 

“Sorry bud, I only got cigarettes,” Hank said as he started carefully wiping away the blood on his chest. He was beginning to see the pale flesh beneath it, littered with freckles and bruises that varied in size.

The stranger weakly held out his hand with his pointer and middle finger raised, then tapped them to his inflamed, bloody lips in the universal gesture that said, ‘Can I bum one?’

Hank figured it couldn’t hurt to oblige this one request and helped him sit up long enough to light a cigarette for him. He watched the first small wisp of smoke spill from his mouth. The young man gingerly leaned one hand behind himself to support his weight as he stayed upright. Hank tried not to let his eyes linger on the unsettling image of his ear hanging so far away from his head.

“What’s your name, kid? Figure I oughta know in case you...you know,” Hank had never been good at introductions, but he was even worse at subtlety. He retrieved another sterile make-shift bandage and plastered it over the chest wound while it was still damp. Before he could secure it in place, however, he’d need to do something about the back. 

The man tried to rasp out a laugh, but instead the sound bubbled wetly to the surface and dripped over his lips, “Hope you got a dark sense of humor.”

Hank raised his brows, his eyes meeting the one open eye of the man just before he shifted behind him. It was a brilliant shade of green when the light of the fire caught in the iris, like sunlight filtering through an oak leaf. 

“Bear...same as the big ol’ critter that decided I wasn’t worth it.” 

“Jesus, that is fucked up,” Hank shook his head at the cruel irony, trying not to crack as Bear let out another bubbling, choked laugh, but he couldn’t resist the subtle curl of the corner of his mouth . Looking at the wounds with that information in mind, Bear was lucky to have escaped with his life. Food scarcity made encounters with wild animals nowadays fatal if one wasn’t careful. It wasn’t something most people tended to survive and laugh about afterwards.

“S’okay,” Bear’s tongue poked at the raw gum where his tooth had been seconds before, “Summbitch missed my best feature.” 

Feeling unusually at ease with Bear’s irreverent sense of humor, Hank continued his work and encouraged him to keep talking, “What’s that?”

“My dick.” Bear’s smug, half-dazed smile met Hank as if he’d just told a real zinger.

Hank knew it was just the shock and blood loss talking, but he still laughed. It was indescribable. Here’s this mangled country boy with a dirty mouth, somehow still carrying on like he wasn’t half-way to the grave, and then there was himself. 

Laughing genuinely for the first time in a long time. His hands soaked in another man’s blood.

Maybe that indicated that he had finally cracked like a walnut, but then again who hadn’t. 

“That’s the best I can do,” Hank secured the tightly wrapped bandage that encircled as much of Bear’s back and chest as possible and the one around his head with spare safety pins, then double checked his handiwork, “We need to get you to a real doctor, though. I’m gonna get you something to keep you warm, then I’ll carry you, alright?”

Just in time, Bear’s face was beginning to droop as fatigue finally caught him. He gave Hank a half-hearted thumbs up and lowered himself onto his side to rest. 

Hank returned from the precarious second floor of the house, managing to avoid the rotten floorboards as he scavenged each room, and helped Bear loop his arms through a thick navy peacoat. He draped a somewhat moth-eaten blanket over his shoulders and head, bundling the cloth together to cover his mouth and nose. 

“You’re really nice,” Bear’s muffled voice made him sound like he was talking through a pillow as Hank hauled him onto his back. His head lolled to the side, leaning into the crook of Hank’s shoulder comfortably, “You smell nice, too.”

“You too, buddy,” It wasn’t true, Bear smelled like ripe piss, shit, and blood, but Hank didn’t have to heart to break it to him.


	2. Morgantown

January 12th 2082

For much of the march towards Morgantown, Hank had to keep telling himself that it wasn’t a sign of bad luck that he’d been forced to take the straight-cut through the woods instead of his planned route. Nothing would happen to them, so long as he didn’t make a mistake. He kept his head on a swivel, knowing that the bear was still out there somewhere. If he could just get some distance and avoid tree-wells while carrying another man, they would be in the clear. 

We’re fine. Just a little farther. We’re fine.

Hank’s repetitive thoughts occupied him as his exhausted muscles burned from the effort. It wasn’t that Bear was particularly heavy, in fact Hank felt like on a sunny day he could probably run three miles while carrying him. It felt just like basic training, carrying a pack that was eighty pounds or more while in full battle dress and ceramic plate gear. Each plate being five pounds at the most, with a total of ten sometimes. Hank did some quick math in his head and figured Bear weighed just about the same. 

It was the blend of many things that caused the problem. The snow, his lack of sleep, and his uncontrollable anxious thoughts were what slowed Hank down. 

“Still with me?” Hank turned his head and noticed a lock of Bear’s coppery hair peeking out of the blanket. He leaned to one side, balancing Bear on his back with one hand, and reached with his free hand to pull the blanket back into place. 

“Still here.” Bear’s voice was weak and croaky as hands moved slightly to tap Hank on the chest. 

Hank readjusted, making sure for the umpeenth time that his human cargo wouldn’t slip from his hold, and continued on. 

We’re fine. Just a little farther.

A blizzard was beginning to roll in as Hank bottomed out at the base of the steep hill. If he was right about which direction they were heading, Morgantown was a straight shot from here, but he’d have to move double time before the weather got worse. 

As fast as he could push himself to go, Hank focused on just getting there with Bear and nothing else. Knees kept high, he made a desperate sprint forward. 

Just a little farther.

He didn’t stop when the ground cleared into tarmac, the crunch of snow replaced with the heavy thud of his boots pounding asphalt. The sun still hadn’t peeked over the horizon, so he kept going and simply followed the light of an oil lantern in the distance. The silhouetted shadows of people started to appear in his periphery. 

Hank finally came to a grinding halt only after he’d burst through the door of a large metal quonset that had ‘Medical’ painted over the face of the building. 

His knees bent as he lowered himself to the concrete and unseen hands started pulling Bear away. His eyes closed on their own as he seemed to shut down entirely from burnout. He was so close to collapse that he failed to notice more hands carrying him off as well. 

“We have two here,” A woman’s voice seemed to echo in the distance. He felt latex gloved fingers pull each of his eyes open briefly as a blinding light darted over his vision. “This one will be fine. Exhaustion. Just get him on a bed and get some water. The other one is priority.”

Hank felt hands pick him up by the arms and lay him flat on what he assumed was a gurney or a cloth cot. He started to come back around the moment his sore back muscles hit the surface, the relief washing over him in waves. 

We’re fine. We made it.

“Here,” A male voice placed a glass of water in his hand and Hank sat up to guzzle it’s contents. “Slowly, there you go.”

Hank thanked the man and gathered himself and his surroundings. 

Four people other than the male nurse attending him were in the same room, standing around another gurney like the one he sat on. He could see in between them the almost death-like figure of Bear as they moved rapidly around him.

“Patient is in shock,” The woman Hank had heard earlier said as she finished registering Bear’s vitals, “We need a drip and a trauma kit. Nurse, help me get him undressed.”

Hank stayed to watch in tense silence, feeling somewhat responsible for the life that hung by a thread before his eyes. He made sure not to get in the way as the doctors undressed the hasty bandages he’d made.

All four immediately started cleaning what they could with disinfectant, avoiding larger wounds that would need water. As one woman focused on the injuries, another was cleaning the caked dry blood covering almost every inch of his skin with a rag so that they could get a clearer look at what they were working with. Hank began to see the various tattoos decorating Bear’s arms and hands that he hadn’t noticed before.

Those that he could make out from where he sat were a variation of handmade and professional. One in particular caught his eye, covering the left bicep, and his tired gaze fixated on it. A deer skull resting amongst blue flowers with a sun crowning it. It’s empty eye sockets stared back at him and reminded him of a time when he was a child. 

Hank’s father used to own a small farm somewhere near Point Pleasant, just twenty acres of alfalfa and a small copse of wild forest. One day, when the snow had thawed, his dad took him along to patrol the fence and check for damage when they came across a body. 

The deer must have died between the fork of two branches, and when the snow melted it left the skeleton dangling ominously from the tree about a foot off the ground. 

Hank tore his eyes away and let them fall on Bear’s face just as a nurse cleaned away the grime and blood there. They shaved away his wild red-orange hair, making him look even sicklier under the harsh fluorescent lights. Something about the scene tugged at his chest and made him feel despondent. 

A familiar sadness, but with something more lying just under the surface of his understanding.

His gaze lingered, following each curve of Bear’s profile from forehead to chin before they placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Hank couldn’t quite place what the emotion was, but he knew it was there. Somewhere in between the place he kept his worries and where he hid his loneliness. 

It felt close to those brief encounters with complete strangers that left an impression on him. People he’d never see again, but sometimes wished he could just one more time based on a pleasant conversation or kind gesture. He thought, just maybe, there was something special clinging to life on the surgery table just feet away and the feeling he was having was a sense of loss for the potential to find out what Bear might mean to him.

Anyone who could laugh at death like that was good in his books.


	3. Night Terrors

January 13th 2082

He felt the foot of his bed dip under the weight of another body and struggled to open his eyes. 

The room around him was unfamiliar and pitch black, but the figure sitting by his feet was somehow a shade darker. Panic flooded his chest, but no matter how much he fought he couldn’t force his limbs to move. 

Hank was frozen in place and could only watch as the silhouette began to drip a pastel shade of red, the oozing fluid coming from a thousand gashes in the somehow solid shadow. Slowly, with a sickening cracking noise, it’s head turned and revealed a familiar face. 

“Am I still here?” 

The gaping maw of the creature that had Bear’s face, but wasn’t him, didn’t move as the gurgling sound rose up impossibly from its throat.

Hank bolted upright so suddenly once control returned to his body that he nearly toppled off of the gurney. The room had changed, returning to the last place he could remember before he had seemingly blacked out. He was still in the medical hut. The room was dimly lit by a lamp in the corner of the room, just beyond the curtain where Bear should be.

His hands shook as he wiped away the cold sweat from his brow and his feet carried him with an unsteady gait to check on Bear in a panic.

“Bear!” Hank practically screamed as he tore the curtains aside. He was sure he’d find him there, dead.

Startled awake by the sound, Bear’s eyes momentarily widened and filled with pure fear, like a wild cornered animal. He stared at Hank, quickly regaining composure after a beat, “What’s happenin’?”

Hank dragged his palms over his face as he kicked himself for over-reacting, “I’m sorry. I just...it’s nothing. Everything’s fine. Bad dream.”

Bear exhaled the breath he’d been holding with a heavy sigh and he relaxed his tensed shoulders, “Jesus roller-blading Christ. I thought you was the bear coming back to finish the job.” 

He laughed. 

Without the pain that had kept him from really doing it before, it now sounded light-hearted and infectious. Hank unconsciously smiled just hearing it. 

“I’m sorry, I should let you rest.” Hank turned on his heels to leave, but Bear spoke up again.

“I’m up now,” He pushed himself into a more comfortable position and patted a space at the end of the gurney for Hank to sit, grunting as the act of doubling over took some effort to accomplish, “Wanna talk about it?”

Hank stared blankly, taken aback by the welcoming gesture. By all rights, Bear should be pissed at him for giving him a few new gray hairs after how badly Hank had scared him, but he wasn’t. “You sure?”

Bear patted the spot again before he reclined against the stack of pillows he’d been resting on, “Come on in, water’s fine. Got any smokes?”

“Of course,” Hank produced the crumpled pack from his breast pocket and handed it over to Bear with a lighter, “How are you feeling?”

He studied Bear’s gaunt, sickly features, noting that his ear was now in its rightful place with the help of several thick stitches. The inflamed, red scar on his chest peeked out of the collar of the ill-fitting hospital gown just below a hollow collarbone. Dark circles formed around his tired eyes and the small cuts and bruises on his face made him look like a man who’d crawled through Hell itself. As far as Hank was concerned, Bear had. 

“Like a bag of smashed assholes run over by an eighteen wheeler and drenched in pig grease,” Bear gave him a sunny smile, missing tooth briefly displayed to remind Hank of its absence, as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, “But thanks to you, I’m still here.”

Still here.

Hank mulled the words over as flashes of his night terror replayed in his mind’s eye. He quickly shook it off and chuckled at the descriptive analogy Bear gave him, effortlessly feeling a weight lifted from him. 

“I don’t know you too well, but you seem like someone who’s resilient enough you may have survived even without my help,” Hank lit a cigarette of his own and allowed himself to feel at peace in the sterile surroundings. Bear’s calming presence helped him manage the remnants of his panic as they drifted away. “How many stitches did it end up taking to put you back together?”

“At least four,” Bear joked as he looked under the collar of his hospital gown and pretended to count, “They itch like hell, though, I tell you what.”

Hank shook his head at how nonchalantly Bear was taking all of this. It was like nothing, not even nearly getting mauled to death, could break his stride. He found that somewhat endearing.

“So, what was your nightmare about? Did you see this handsome face?” Bear gestured to his bruised and battered appearance. Beneath the obvious damage, however, Hank could see a desirable looking young man. A strong jaw bone, freckled cheeks, and thick lashes that lined striking green eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Hank spoke candidly, feeling like it was earned at this point, but he wasn’t sure how to put it without making himself sound insane, “It wasn’t that, exactly. I just...I get these dreams sometimes, ever since I was little. I see things, then I wake up and...it happens in real life. Sometimes. I know how it sounds.”

He avoided making eye-contact with Bear, knowing if he looked he’d see that same look everyone else had given him when he talked about his unusual premonitions. Almost three decades of being called a freak had trained him well to temper his expectations. 

“I believe you.” The gurney creaked as Bear sat up and put a cautious hand on Hank’s shoulder. “It’s got you rattled pretty bad, anythin’ I can do?”

Hank raised his gaze to meet Bear’s with caution, surprised once again by how uncommonly kind this complete stranger was to him. The sincere look of patient understanding on Bear’s face almost made him choke up. 

“No,” Hank suppressed his astonishment and he smiled appreciatively, “No, you listened and that’s good enough for me. Thank you.”

“Wanna hear a dumb joke, then? Laughter is the best cure they say and I could use some of that.” Bear eased himself back down slowly. His half-closed eyes holding a mischievous glint in them as he grinned at Hank. “How do you get ‘Dick’ from ‘Richard’?”

“I don’t know,” Hank said after thinking it over for a moment.

“You ask him nicely,” Bear’s teeth flashed and together with the way he giggled and his missing tooth it was more than enough to make Hank laugh too. He just looked too goofy not to. 

Hank settled down, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, “You’re too goddamn funny, I feel like I could just listen to you talk all day. But...I should probably let you sleep.”

Bear gave him a sleepy smile, “Alright, you just come find me when you want me to chat your ear off.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hank stood up just as Bear closed his eyes. He stayed, just long enough to watch his expression relax as the painkillers carried him off to a deep sleep. Something finally clicked for him as he left, but he easily wrote it off as a symptom of his own self imposed isolation. 

Bear had been his first human interaction in a week, and being that alone tended to make almost anyone become easily attached. He couldn’t allow that little voice in his head to get carried away just because it felt 'nice' being around Bear. Hank barely knew him. 

Yet, there it was. That familiar flutter in his chest that left him confused and wondering if he was really that lonely, or if it was something more.

Hank didn’t get the time to really consider it. By this time the next night, he’d already be heading to Charleston. He’d finally be going home after almost five long years.


	4. Reunion

March 8th 2082

Almost two whole months after officially joining the Responder’s, Hank felt an ever growing sense of dread every time he heard about the Responders and BOS cooperating together. He was just waiting for that tenuous thread to snap. 

The day after he arrived in Morgantown he’d spoken with Maria Chavez, which just so happened to be the same doctor who’d helped Bear as well as one of the original founders of the faction, and she was right when she told him the BOS wouldn’t be happy when they caught wind of him taking their side. 

They didn’t. 

Of course, Hank thought it was just another in the long list of shitty things about his former friends. Afterall, they were all on the same side or should at least act like it, but until that happened Hank tried not to make too many big splashes as he settled back into the new normal at his old ladder. 

The same faces were still there, including his curmudgeonly Captain, Melody Larkin, and he still didn’t have an assigned bunk. Same greasy, artery clogging meals. Same uniform. 

It almost felt like he was home, but there was so much that had changed. 

The rising tension of post-war society during a period of martial law with little to no government remaining to fill the vacuum of power had it’s obvious problems. The collapse of structure left families hungry and people destitute. Worse still, subtle amounts of radioactive fallout carried on the wind and tainted water sources. New and terrifyingly mutated creatures roamed freely and unchecked. 

All things that Hank had sworn to combat until his dying breath.

As a First Responder, Hank had access to better rations and clean water, but damn did he wish there was more to spread around. It ate at him, day and night, knowing that the road to regaining what they had all lost would be a long one. 

It made him so tired. 

Tired of seeing so many down-trodden, hopeless faces and unable to help lift their spirits. Even his old friends at the station left him feeling like something was out of place. It wasn’t just the world that had changed, but all of them as well.

There was just the one little bright spot. The wiry country boy he’d snatched from death’s door-step who yanked his own loose tooth out without a second of hesitation and could make Hank laugh so hard he cried. 

He took to sitting on the roof of the station underneath the tin roof of a make-shift guard tower, chain-smoking until mealtime or an emergency called him away. Sometimes, especially when he saw the oak leaves begin to sprout early from branches, his mind wandered to a peaceful fantasy he’d been gradually building on in his spare time to keep himself occupied. 

Hank imagined just sharing a drink with him and talking. First thing he would say to Bear was apologize for not saying goodbye before they parted ways. He hadn’t wanted to wake him at the time, but he regretted that decision now. He wondered where Bear was now and what he was up to at the moment.

Meanwhile, in Morgantown, Bear rolled out of a bed that didn’t belong to him, knocking over several empty bottles and used chems as he threw the twisted blanket off of him. Still buzzed from the night before, he tried and failed to get dressed without waking the other person in the bed next to him. 

The mayor’s son, Tommy or Billy, Bear couldn’t remember at the time, whined as his outstretched hand searched the body-shaped hollow where Bear had been and he muttered a sleepy, “Babe? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, sugar,” Bear rubbed the rough pad of his thumb over his hand and continued getting dressed, “Gotta go to work.”

He pulled his well-worn, motor oil stained jeans up and didn’t even bother fumbling with the thick metal buckle, skipping it to grab his shirt and boots. By the time it took him to tie the last lace, two arms snaked around his torso and a chin rested on his shoulder, “Stay. If you needed money you should’ve said something. I could set you up for life, baby.”

Bear had a few things in mind to say, high on that list was ‘with your daddy's money’, but he settled with a simple, “Tempting, but you know I’m too expensive, even for myself. Just go on back to sleep, loverboy.”

The arms let go of him easily enough and Bear left after popping a Day-Tripper to keep the high going. 

Once outside, he strolled at an easy-going pace while he straightened out his bed head with a fine-tooth comb. Doctor Chavez had told him he’d have a slow recovery, even after all of his wounds had healed up. In terms he could understand she described it like driving a car with a broken strut arm. His alignment would be off, possibly for the rest of his life, and it would leave him with some recurring pain in his back. 

He also would never become an all-star pitcher, but that was less of a concern than it was good material for a joke. He smiled to himself as he muttered, “So I rooted for the Cubs, that is, until their mascot tried to rip my arm off.”

The short walk to the Red Rocket station gave him enough time to wonder if that big, handsome fellow who saved his sorry ass was doing okay. He thought about Hank at the strangest times, like the other day when he saw an old, worn leather book of poetry. Bear had no way of knowing whether or not Hank actually liked poetry, but something about it spoke to him. He ended up buying the book, but hadn’t touched it yet. 

“You’re late, beatnik,” His boss, Joe, hollered at him from the open garage door of the station, “Get your ass to work, we got orders.”

Joe was a treasure. 

He was perhaps one of the few remaining people who had no idea that the world had ended and simply carried on doing the same thing he’d always done. Or at least it seemed that way to Bear. In reality, Joe didn’t give a flying shit about the literal apocalypse and once he figured out how to get the nuclear engines in cars running again he was open for business. 

Surprisingly, people actually paid the man to continue living the lie that their sleek sports cars were still useful. Bear knew, like most other people with an ounce of sense, that eventually the roads would crumble and fuel would deplete, and then all the folks who had those fancy Corvegas would have to hoof it. 

He supposed he was a bit of a hypocrite in that vein, being the owner of a ‘borrowed’ blue pickup truck, but at least he could say that the four-wheel drive would make it last a little longer than any two door coupe. 

“Whatchu got for me today, bossman?” Bear kept a straight face as he made a big show of using the time clock to punch in for the day.

“Delivery,” Joe’s permanently sour face gestured to a stack of crates strapped and ready to go on a flat-bed trailer, “Charleston Fire Department.”

Joe was also a man of few words, which Bear greatly appreciated. 

“10-4, chief,” Bear’s eyes widened to their fullest playfully, mocking an owl, as Joe stared him down. He wondered when the old goat would finally snap, after putting up with his bullshit for a week now he figured he had to be close, but today wasn’t the day. 

Joe grumbled under his breath, something about how Bear belonged in a ‘nuthouse’, and shuffled away to his office to read trashy tabloid magazines until another customer showed up. 

Bear, meanwhile, strolled around to the back to begin his favorite daily ritual. 

“Hey there, old girl,” He greeted his truck, lovingly named ‘Old Blue’ and patted her like she was a faithful steed. Being just a little too thorough, but really just trying to kill time, he inspected her wheels, undercarriage, the bed, and every inch under the hood for signs of tampering. When he was satisfied, he finally opened the cabin door and climbed inside, “Ready to work, baby?”

Bear backed her up to the trailer and left Blue running as he hopped out and hitched up the flatbed and then he was on his way with the radio blaring and a bottle of whiskey between his thighs. 

\---

Later that same day, Hank waited impatiently for the scheduled delivery. He sat in the garage, so irritated with how late this damn truck was that he imagined any second now steam would start billowing from his ears like those old cartoons, and passed the time by reading the one and only book available in the whole station. 

Of course, he knew the old Fire Department handbook by heart, but it was the only portable distraction available.

Finally, an hour and a half later than expected, he heard the sound of a truck engine roaring along the road towards them. 

“Jesus, took you long enough asshole,” He grumbled and slapped the book down as he stood and prepared his best scowl. That expression faded quickly when he saw the driver pull up.

“Bear?” The corners of Hank’s mouth pulled up into a wide, overjoyed smile as he recognized the somewhat transformed but still familiar face sitting in the driver’s side. He approached, head tilted to get a different angle on him as Bear climbed out. 

Bear looked amazing, almost like the image Hank still held of him bleeding out on the table had never happened. His once starved features had filled in a little, and his skin radiated with a healthy glow. Even the obvious scar on the side of his head failed to show just how serious the injury had been. 

“Hank!” Bear shared the mutual bliss of their surprise reunion, reaching out with one hand to shake his hand. 

Hank, however, pulled him roughly by the collar of his form-fitting white shirt until Bear’s face plowed into his chest and his wide arms wrapped tightly around him in a strong embrace. He couldn’t see himself, but Hank figured he had the goofiest look on his face as he felt Bear’s laugh vibrate against him. 

“Alright, lemme get a look at you,” Hank released his grip and soaked in the details as Bear spun in place with his palms raised up high. 

The scars were mostly healed and gave Bear a rather endearing ‘bad boy’ look. Hank involuntarily bit the corner of his bottom lip as his gaze dragged up and down, noting the way his shirt lifted up ever so slightly to give a glimpse at the carve of muscle in his hips just above the belt and the eye-catching trail of hair that led downward. 

Their eyes met and Bear smirked at him knowingly, the tip of his tongue touching the gold replacement tooth as chuckled and returned the look Hank gave him. 

“You clean up real nice,” Hank felt that flutter again, along with something a bit more primal in nature. The small, shy voice in his head interjected to remind him he had to behave himself, so he swapped flirting for humor, “Did you trade your mullet for that tooth?”

Bear’s infectious laugh met Hanks ears, one of the most pleasant sounds he’d ever heard. “I figured I used up all my guardian angels on the damn bear, so I said fuck it. I just hope when I kick the bucket the graverobber who steals my gold tooth spends it on somethin’ fun.”

“Goddamn,” Hank shook his head, the warm, light as a feather feeling made him completely forget what he had been doing just before this, “I missed your fucked up sense of humor, man. Why don’t you stay a bit, tell me how you been doing?”

Bear eyed Hank for a moment, hypnotized by his charismatic smile and the pleasant sound of his deep voice, before he shook himself back to awareness, “Sure thing Hunk...er...Hank. Help me with this load first?”

He didn’t see it as he hopped up on the flatbed, but Hank secretly grinned at his slip of the tongue. Maybe, he thought, the blossoming feelings and physical attraction he clearly had for Bear were mutual afterall, despite what his anxiety told him otherwise. Meeting him again, Hank couldn’t pretend anymore. Whatever he had for Bear was real and he had it bad.

The two of them worked to unload the truck with haste, eager to get to the part they were both looking forward to. They made it a little bit of a competition, seeing who could carry more boxes, until the task was done. 

Hank gave him a pleased smile as he emerged the victor of their little unspoken challenge in the end. 

“You’re...you’re pretty buff, I’ll give you that,” Bear caught his breath and rolled his hand up into the bottom of his shirt to pull it up high and wipe the sweat off his face. 

Hank couldn’t resist taking a good long look at him, staring perhaps a little too obviously. He pictured himself just saying ‘fuck it’ and reaching out to touch him. To find out what that alluring voice sounded like in a certain circumstance. The pervasive thought was so engrossing that Hank entirely failed to notice that Bear was watching him too.

“Does this mean I have to buy you a drink?” Bear lowered his shirt and gave Hank a wicked little smirk. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” Hank rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed by his own crude thoughts. Not too much to make them stop running rampant through his mind, though. “But save your money, we got booze here.”

Hank led him to the station’s cafeteria and momentarily disappeared behind the counter to pilfer a bottle from the pantry and two glasses from the cupboard. As he set them up, Bear took a seat at the minibar and let his eyes wander about the space with mild curiosity. 

“Nice digs,” His eyes rested on a jukebox in the corner, “So this is what you been up to.”

Hank had been so wrapped up in the moment he realized he hadn’t explained himself to Bear yet. The realization hit him like a sack of bricks as he came to sit next to Bear with the glasses in hand. Hank swirled his drink in his hand after handing Bear his, trying to pick his words carefully, “I’m sorry I didn’t...say bye or leave a note. I should have said something.”

“S’okay,” Bear leaned on the bar and gave Hank his classic easy-going smile. At the time, it did hurt a little, but Bear couldn’t stay mad about it. “You missed the ugly parts of my recovery, and I..I wouldn’t want you to see me like that, so win-win.”

“I should have been there,” Hank trained a regretful look on Bear. It felt exactly like he’d let an old friend down. Shame tightened in his chest as he chided himself for letting the wrong head take the lead when they reunited. 

Bear scratched his five o-clock shady and chuckled low in his throat, “You wouldn’t have liked it. I shit myself four, maybe five, times. The nurses said I got real cranky with ‘em. Then there was the itching-”

“Bear,” Hank stopped him before he could continue deflecting with humor. Hank knew because he often did the same thing, just in a different way. “I wanted to be there, but I wasn’t. You deserved a better friend.”

For a moment, as Bear’s gears were clearly working over-time, Hank saw his expression fall just behind the glass. 

The words threw Bear in an unexpected loop. For the first time in his life he felt well and truly seen by another person, as if Hank really cared about him more than just physically, and that terrified Bear. He took a generous swig and shook his head with a weakened half-smile, “A friend does sound nice. You really want that?” 

Of course, Hank knew he wanted more. He wanted to hold Bear in his arms. To feel just how soft those plump, pink lips were. Listen to him just talk as they laid under a blanket of stars. The dreams he had that usually warned him of something bad just around the bend had instead become about him. He was, however, still as cautious as he’d always been. 

He knew Bear felt something for him too, but what that was he didn’t dare ask. It just didn’t feel right to pry. Not yet. 

“Yea, I want that,” Hank held out his glass as a sort of silent agreement. 

Bear raised his glass and clinked it against Hank’s with a hopeful smile. “If you feel like strangling me later after I end up annoying you, just let it be known you asked for it.”

The two of them shared a blissful fit of chuckles, and unseen the unusual bond they shared deepened.


	5. Addiction

June 16th 2082

In Morgantown, Bear rolled out of yet another bed, this one technically his own, with the mother of all hangovers. 

He grumbled irritably at the blindingly bright beam of sunlight that streamed in through a crack in the boarded window and directly onto his face. If not for the rude awakening, he might have slept in until late in the afternoon, but once he was up he was up. 

“Fuck me,” He rolled onto his stomach and flung his arm over the edge of the bed in search of his pill bottle. “It’s too damn early to be this fucking sober.” 

His eyes glanced at the clock to actually check the time and a pit formed in his stomach as he saw that it was half past noon. He was definitely fired now. Bear shrugged it off relatively easily after a moment of consideration. Nothing really mattered and he hated that job anyway. 

Pill bottle in hand, Bear rattled the plastic and could hear just one dose of the painkillers he’d become reliant on remaining. He let it fall into his hand and popped it in, swallowing it down with several gulps of luke-warm whiskey.

For the next hour, he just laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling as the room around him spun. 

He tried not to think about Hank. 

After an indeterminate amount of time he swung his legs out of bed, finally starting his day, and shuffled to his cupboard. Mostly empty shelves stared back at him and as if on cue, his stomach growled at him. 

“I know buddy, me too.” He patted his belly and reached for the only thing he had other than chems, booze, and cigarettes. A tin of ground coffee in hand, Bear lethargically made himself a strong cup of ‘motor oil’ and took it to sit on his floor until it took effect. 

He felt like shit, looked like shit, and probably smelled like it too, but he found it hard to really care about that. He had convinced himself that, ‘It is what it is’, on a regular basis. 

“He just forgot about me, that’s all,” He talked to his guitar, left untouched and collecting dust in the corner for several weeks now. “I don’t blame him none. I’m just a...a ghost. That was always the plan, though, right? I’m no good to no one and it’s better this way.”

A loud knocking sound startled Bear, practically making him leap out of his pallid skin, and he stared at the door as if it had become a gateway to hell. He remained perfectly still. No one should know he was here. 

“Letter for a uh...Bear?” The voice that belonged to the shadow beneath the doorframe spoke in an upbeat tone of voice. 

“Letter…?” Bear looked like a mad-man who’d never heard the term before. He blinked away the manic ramblings in his head and stood to open the door. Judging by the courier’s reaction, he really did look insane, “Who?”

“It’s unmarked, unfortunately, I was just told to take it here,” He smiled with a bright, almost too perfect smile and handed Bear the letter. 

Bear slammed the door and carried the letter to the bed before he hastily tore it open and started scanning the words for specific words. He found what he hoped he would and read the name over and over, feeling it wrap around him like a security blanket. 

Hank.

He tried to hold back the tears as he went back to read the letter in full, but they spilled despite himself. Heavy, bitter tear-drops hit the paper and his shoulders bagan to quake as the floodgates opened. It began as a series of choked sobs, but quickly devolved into open wails as Bear was overwhelmed by the stress and self-doubt he’d bottled up. He fell forward onto his face in a desperate effort to muffle his cries as the tears were already beginning to burn his skin and make him feel like he was shriveling into dust. 

The letter was asking him to join the Responders. 

Hank had asked before, and that’s the moment Bear could pinpoint where he’d fucked up. He wrote back a reckless, somewhat offhanded letter describing how he just wasn’t ‘Responder material’. Bear didn’t feel right at the time agreeing to a role that just didn’t suit him. It felt like a sick lie. He wasn’t a good man like Hank. His past said that plenty enough. 

Yet, Hank still wrote to him like they could be friends. Like promised. 

Bear screamed, more at himself than anything else.

He’d pushed Hank away by responding to his letters less and less over the past few months until the letters just stopped coming. 

“Hank,” Bear curled into a tight ball and held the letter to his chest tightly, crumpling it as he rocked himself back and forth, “I fucked up. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

He let it all out. Every ounce of his fear, his sadness, and his rage blending together until they became a sinkhole that felt impossible to climb out of. He wished Hank was here to hold him. Wished he would let Hank do that. 

“Goddamn it, I’m so fucking stupid,” He rolled onto his back as he took control of himself with pain-staking effort. 

Slowly, still shaking from the ordeal, Bear forced himself out of bed and into the cramped bathroom. His eyes were instinctively drawn to the collection of pill bottles and a voice in his head encouraged him to ignore the letter to get high. 

He glanced up at himself in the mirror to look at himself for the first time in weeks. 

Bear looked ten years older than he was. From the haggard look in his dead eyes, to his unkempt, greasy hair he was the spitting image of what he was told he’d always become. 

Another voice, louder than the previous one, told him the truth. That enough was enough. In all his years, he’d found that bright spot he didn’t think existed, and it was Hank. The man who made him feel like it was possible to love and be loved. Someone who made Bear feel like being a better version of himself. He wouldn’t know if things would get better if he didn’t at least try. 

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear himself admit, but he needed to. 

“You’re right,” Bear muttered, his lower lip shaking as another series of sobs threatened to take over. He took the bottles and started dumping them into the sink, one by one, and watched them fall out of sight down the drain. 

He turned back to himself and then glanced at his razor, “I gotta do this.”

Bear unfolded the razor, looking at it with a transformed point of view. Not as something that could end the pain, but a tool that could renew him.

He lathered his thick, wild-man beard and started the laborious task of shaving. 

“Do it for Hank,” His hands were steady once he could find his strength, “If not for him, then do it for you. Do it because he makes you feel…”

He couldn’t say it, but he let himself think it. 

“One step at a time,” He tapped the excess hair off of the razor and into the sink with the rest of his inhibitions.


	6. Change

June 18th 2082

Hank tapped his clipboard with his pencil as his eyes glazed over. The sound of the recruits getting to know each-other was just a distant murmur to him as he fell into a deep thought. He’d had another bad dream last night. Same as the week before, and the one before that. 

He walked into a cramped, messy apartment and saw the worst. 

Bear. 

Dead on the ground and surrounded by chems and bottles. 

It troubled him enough that he hadn’t gotten much sleep since the dream started coming. He tried to comfort himself with the reminder that the dreams rarely came true, but still. 

Bear had said he wasn’t a good fit for the Responders, but Hank just wouldn’t let it go. He felt like that was so untrue that he just kept pushing until he went too far. It made sense to him when Bear started drifting away. 

“Lieutenant Madigan, sir?” A mousy recruit tore him away from his brooding thoughts. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but uhm...there’s another recruit who showed up late? What should I do?”

“Nothing,” Hank slapped his clipboard on the table as his scowl etched deeply into his face, “That’s my job, recruit. Just go back to the others and await orders.”

He rose from the chair with clenched fists and brushed past her as he went to chew out the asshole who thought showing up so late when the time was explicitly stated on the notice would land him anywhere close to Hank’s good side. There was little patience in him for things like this. If he was to entrust the serious responsibility of being a Fire Breather to this fresh batch of greenies, they had better at least show up on time. 

As he rounded the corner, his pet peeve for tardiness irked to the boiling point, his face faltered as he saw who it was. 

Bear looked worse for wear, but alive. He avoided eye contact with Hank as the shame consumed every aspect of his appearance and made him look unlike himself. 

“You, recruit,” Hank barked at him, noticing a subtle flinch as his tone left its mark, “My office. Now.”

He turned on his heel, putting the hushed whispers of the other recruits behind them as he marched up the stairs with Bear in tow. Hank waited just at the door for Bear to slowly shuffle his way inside and once he was in Hank let the door close with a decent thud that echoed into the silence that followed between them.

Bear had expected Hank to be mad, he just hoped he wouldn’t be. He stared at his feet and chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to find some magic words that would make it right, but nothing came to mind. He deserved this. 

“I...uh…” He cleared his throat as a fat tear rolled down his cheek involuntarily, “I’m really...really fucking sorry, and-”

He suddenly felt hands whip him around as Hank pulled him so close to his chest that he could hear Hank’s heart beat. One large, warm hand rested on the back of his head while the other coiled around him to sprawl across his back. Hank held him there with his face buried in the top of Bear’s head. 

A profound, overwhelming wave of emotion overcame Bear. He felt like he could just shatter into a million, beautiful pieces.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Hank’s deep, usually confident voice trembled as he started to cry, “I was so worried.”

It dawned on Bear that Hank had brought him here, to a private place where no one was watching, just to hold him like this. 

“I’m sorry,” He fully gave himself over to the embrace, letting his own tears stain Hank’s shirt, “I...should have...I shouldn't have ignored you.” 

The words were fatal. Bear’s shaking shoulders signified another collapse, but he still bit back the sobs. He couldn’t let himself do it. Not in front of Hank. Not after the worry he’d already put him through. 

Hank shushed him gently. He knew how hard this must be for someone like Bear. It was more than enough for Hank that he was safe. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m just glad you came.”

As they parted, both rubbing their eyes quickly, Hank guided them to sit across from each other and poured out two drinks. Bear eyed it unsurely, but took it nevertheless. He kept his gaze below eye level as he attempted a witty remark, “I’m guessing all those new faces I saw don’t know you’re the hugging type?”

Hank nodded, smiling softly, “If they did they’d be walking all over me.”

This had been the part he’d been dreading so much he hadn’t even thought it all the way through. With Bear here, it would be almost impossible not to play favorites without sending mixed signals. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bear feel any less special to him. 

“Your beans will remain unspilled with me,” Bear found the courage to meet his concerned gaze. In the low light of the office Hank’s eyes were dark, framed in an appealing shape with laugh lines forming at the corner. Bear could recall how they looked when the sunlight caught in them, so bright they were an almost glowing shade of amber. They were almost always brimming with kindness. He felt so fragile beneath that gaze. 

“I like that turn of phrase, mind if I steal it?” Hank gave him a genuine smile, hoping it would somehow transfer onto Bear so that he could see that sunny expression again. 

The corners of Bear’s mouth curled, but it was a cheap imitation of his normal smile. “Sure, what are friends for?”

It didn’t sit right with Hank having to keep his friendship with Bear a secret, even just for the short six weeks it would take to train everyone up, but he couldn’t find another way around it. 

If he were to tell Bear the truth, that he was falling for him, it would just make it worse. It would put too much pressure on a man who was just beginning what appeared to be a long and hard journey. He just hoped the next time things came crashing down for Bear, he could be there to help. 

Bear stood up, setting the still full glass on the desk, and gave the room an anxious, darting glance, “I’ll go ahead and just...join the others.”

He left Hank behind to feel the heart-achingly painful hopelessness that one gets when they know they can’t just magic away the problems people they care about were struggling with.


	7. Snap

June 25th 2082

Bright and early the next morning, Hank rounded everyone up and marched them all the way to the ‘proving ground’ as he began to call it. Camp McClintock. He himself had done some time here, way back in the day, and he hoped the familiar setting would inspire his inner hard-ass Gunny. 

He would need it with this lot. 

A week after arrival things were already spiraling out of his control. 

Hank was a great leader in a pinch, but he’d never had to train people who didn’t even know what ‘trigger discipline’ was. He’d chewed out more than one recruit for stupidly pointing the barrel of a rifle without giving it a second thought. So much so, that his throat felt like it had been shredded with sandpaper. 

The gap in skill level between each individual was almost night and day. It sometimes seemed wide enough to put the Grand Canyon to shame, and that caused its own domino effect of problems.

Petty infighting, anything from a brawl over who fucked the whole team up on an obstacle course to screaming matches over who took the last box of Sugar Bombs, left Hank feeling deranged.

Most of all, the real kick in the head for Hank was seeing Bear struggle. 

He already had the necessary survival skills that Hank was trying to pound into the others thick skulls, as well as an apparently extensive experience, but his people skills needed work. He’d clearly been on his own for way too long. 

Hank could see he was going through the tell-tale signs of withdrawals, often covered in a cold-sweat from morning to night while his hands shook during the most basic of tasks. He still put in the effort to train with everyone else, but Hank saw him fighting an internal battle every time he wasn’t occupied. 

Bears' fuse was abysmally short around the others when things went wrong. He was otherwise rather soft-spoken and calm, but the complete one-eighty that happened when he lost his gradually failing patience tended to keep others at arm's length. 

Hank had already heard the ridiculous rumors. 

Bear was an escapee from Allegheny. He was a government experiment. A leftover sleeper agent working for the ‘Reds’ that had a secret trigger word that would activate him. That he was simply just an asshole and a chem-addict. 

They said that about Hank too, mostly the part about just being an asshole, but that was expected. Hank wanted them to see him as their no-nonsense leader. He saw it as the only way that fire would light under their asses and get them going. To have them say things like that about Bear, though, made him angry. 

Hank knew how rough it was out there. The recruits were just reacting the only way they knew how when strict rules were tossed at them, and the defensive reaction to discipline was something Hank was trying to help them overcome. He wished they would learn to see past their differences, Bear’s included, and work together. 

He was, however, completely out of his depth.

“Get your asses up that wall, I wanna see some fuckin progress,” Hank bellowed his order as he supervised the task. The goal was to cross over a twelve foot vertical wall with no rope, forcing them all to work together and form a human chain. 

Certain groups had nailed the technique Hank had shown them when he split them into four teams, but now that they were all supposed to make it work as a full unit it was just falling apart. 

Bear had taken a position at the bottom of the pile, providing his body as a support beam. He held his palms flat to the wall and braced himself as the feet standing on his shoulders shook from the weight of the slowpoke just above. 

The mousy recruit, Sharon Murray, wasn’t promising. She hesitated too much. Now she was within reach of the top, but all it took for her to freeze up was look down. 

“Murray! Move!” Hank shouted. 

Disaster was just waiting to happen. Sharon flinched hard, practically flinging her body away from the wall, and she took everyone down with her. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Hank tapped the clipboard against his forehead impatiently and counted to ten. Yelling didn’t seem to be working for these people. It just seemed to make it worse. 

“Why the FUCK are any of y’all here if you can’t even fuckin’ climb a wall?” Bear wrestled his way out of the dogpile and spit off to the side as he glared at the tangle of limbs and irritated expressions. 

“Hey, shut up asshole,” Another recruit, Jack Thompson, spoke up. He was usually the one who snapped back at Bear, “Sharon did her best. We all did. Not all of us were raised by a fucking chem addicted whore.”

He got up in Bear’s face, daring him to fight back. 

“If you don’t shut your mouth, the next thing that’ll come out is your teeth,” Bear set his jaw, the muscle lining it flexing and making his features more severe. Jack reminded him of every bully and asshole he’d ever met. He just wanted to wipe that smug look off his stupid face.

“You’d be the expert,” Jack folded his arms, showing Bear that he wasn’t scared of him, “How’d you lose that tooth, then? Too much psycho?”

He never learned. 

Jack seemed to think that, despite the previous fights, Bear was too short to be a real threat. He figured the other times were just dumb luck. 

Bear swung his left arm, and Jack fell for it. He flinched to block Bear, but left himself open for the classic bait and switch Bear was so proficient at. His right fist connected with Jack’s ribs, enough that a bruise was guaranteed from the force of his bony knuckles.

Jack fought back erratically and with all of his might, throwing his fists with reckless abandon as he tried to take advantage of his height. Bear backed up and tackled him around the middle for a take down. 

Before Hank could intervene, Bear had taken some decent licks, but he had given them all back two-fold. 

“Break it up, break it the fuck up!” Hank protectively yanked Bear from Jack’s grasp and guided him to stand behind him. “Get the fuck over yourselves. This is goddamn childish.”

“But, sir, he started it,” Jack’s eye was already swelling shut. 

“I don’t give a goddamn who started it,” Hank roared, his scowl twisting tight knots into his brow, “As far as I’m concerned everyone’s getting punished. Back to the barracks, now! All of you. I wanna see it fucking shine by the end of the hour.”

Reluctantly, the gathered crowd and Jack shuffled off with their tails tucked between their legs and heads hung low. They were already whispering about Bear.

Hank escorted the deadly quiet Bear up to the office in the main building, like he usually did when things like this happened, and sat him down on the desk to treat his busted lip and bloody nose. He set the aid kit in his lap and sat between Bear’s legs before reaching forward, “Lemme see that lip.”

Bear didn’t move a muscle as Hank gently cradled his chin in one hand while his other hand wiped away the blood. His eyes were fixated on something in the middle-distance as he thought about how he’d been acting since he quit. 

“You okay?” Hank squeezed a drop of antibacterial ointment onto the tip of his finger and applied it to the cut gently. 

“Are ya gonna actually punish me this time?” Bear’s eyes turned on Hank, an unreadable look in them. 

“Of course not, you didn’t do anything wrong,” He was being honest, but there was some doubt that lingered. “I mean, sure, you’re rough around the edges, but the others-”

“Stop,” Bear suffered from a mini-explosion, his tone reaching a surprising decibel before he reigned himself back in and closed his eyes, “Stop fuckin treating me like...like I’m fuckin’ fragile. I ain’t a...a goddamn ticking time-bomb waiting to go off...not a... I’m not anything.”

Hank let him ramble for as long as he wanted, listening intently. 

“I...I ain’t shit. Can’t get along with no one but you...You treat me...like you think I can’t handle it...I just…” Bear was so consumed by his spiraling paranoia that it made him stand up and begin to pace in an attempt to expel the nuclear meltdown he felt coming on. 

Hank buried his face in his hands as he felt the turmoil Bear was going through. His mama used to call him an ‘empath’, and it was times like right now when he believed her. 

His heart ached for Bear. He wanted to just make it all go away. 

“You treat me like...like I can’t take it...and the others. The others fucking see me comin’ up here and leaving without so much as a slap on the damn wrist. They think we’re playing some sort of...fucked up mind game. That you’re...you...they say the nastiest shit about you. That you put an asshole like me on a fuckin’ pedastal.” Bear’s subtle stutter had manifested ten-fold now as he collapsed inwards. “It ain’t right… Hank...I’m...I’m only undermining the good things you’re trying to do here.”

He fell quiet while his fingers coiled and twisted through his coppery hair. His thoughts were too loud to keep going. 

“You’ve got a real big chip on your shoulder there...but it’s not your fault,” Hank stood up when he felt it was right. He walked towards Bear, repeating the latter part of his statement over and over as Bear recoiled from the truth. The gap between them closed and Hank held him the way anyone who fought so hard needed to be held. 

“It's not your fault, Bear.”

It almost felt like Hank was referencing the things about Bear that he had no way of knowing, as if he could see his thoughts and his past with those piercing eyes. Bear fought to contain himself as hot, stinging tears blurred his vision. 

“Let it all out. I’m still here. Your beans will stay unspilled with me,” Hank softly secured his palm over the back of Bear’s head as he held him close. His feathery soft hair had a calmingly warm smell to it and Hank pretended he was taking the comfort it gave him to convert it into something that could transfer to Bear through contact. 

For the second time in one month, Bear broke down into hysterical sobs that racked his entire body. His fingers twisted into the fabric of Hank’s shirt until they were white-knuckled. He both wanted to just vanish into thin air and stay right here for eternity. 

Hank, feeling vulnerable by proxy, allowed himself to let his tears fall too. He wished he could do more.

Carefully, he guided them to the couch in the corner and sat down, pulling Bear comfortably into his lap while maintaining his hold on him. They sat exactly like that for the next hour and beyond, embracing until eventually Bear wore himself out.

“You good?” Hank said as Bear sat up and rolled off of him. He had the urge to reach out and touch his face, to lean forward and finally kiss him. If he knew it would take the burden away from Bear, he would have, but Hank knew it didn’t work like that.

“Oh, you know, fair-to-middling, like usual,” Bear let himself laugh about it, rubbing the salt away from his puffy red eyes. “Peachy keen.”

Hank straightened out his pants as he found a more relaxed position on the couch. It was impressive to him just how much Bear kept buried under that tough exterior. Kind of reminded him of himself. Just two angry, screaming peas in a pod. 

“You gotta start giving me fair punishment, just like you give the others,” Bear leaned onto his elbows, feeling his peace of mind return slowly, “I’m trying to help you, Hank. Gotta set an example.”

Hank eyed Bear’s slender back, considering his statement thoughtfully. “How would you like me to punish you, then?”

His deep, tantalizing voice pervaded Bear’s rational thoughts and implanted an image of Hank ‘punishing’ him. Bending him over the desk. Those powerful hands touching him in all the right places. Bear shook the crude thought away as soon as it came and bit his lip, “Tell ‘em...tell ‘em anything. That you lock me in the bathroom like the critter I am...or...that you make me lick the floor clean. I dunno.”

“How do you feel about organizing?” Hank steepled his fingers, an mutually beneficial idea coming to mind. 

“Hate it,” Bear was nothing if not honest, “Numbers ‘n letters hurt my head an’ all the finagling it takes to put stuff in a certain order never made sense to me...why?”

He turned to look at Hank when no response came, and the mischievous look he faced spoke volumes. 

“Ah, shit,” Bear grumbled, but he would still accept the task.


	8. Halloween

October 31st 2082

It had taken much longer than the anticipated six weeks, but Hank was proud to say he’d finally done it. 

The first graduating class of brand new Fire Breathers had reached their final day of training, remolded from the humble clay they had come from into honest to goodness soldiers. He smiled as they formed into neat rows and stood at attention. 

“Congratulations, recruits,” He began his well rehearsed speech, noting the lows they had reached and how monumental their subsequent climb had been. 

Things had improved slightly when, the morning after that fateful night with Bear, the other recruits filed in the next morning to see Bear mopping and waxing every inch of the floor with a rag. It would have taken him all day, but Hank’s plan worked beautifully. 

Some of them felt pity just watching Bear keep on while they were on a day of rest, and one by one they started to pitch in. 

From there, things just started slowly falling into place. 

Hank smiled during his speech as he remembered the one night he caught them red-handed sneaking out to go get wasted at the Rusty Pick. He snuck in through the back and saw something miraculous. Not a single one of the little shits were fighting. 

They were bonding. Just having fun dancing like drunk fools while Bear, to his surprise, showed off a hidden talent. 

He remembered hanging back to let Bear finish singing and playing guitar, falling harder and harder by the second as his heavenly voice touched something in his soul. If not for that night, Hank knew he would’ve missed out on that memorable moment. 

The other recruits scattered away like racoons caught digging in the trash when he’d finally revealed himself, but Bear remained with his guitar in his lap and gave Hank that sunny smile. 

To think that had just been a month ago, Hank felt his heart swell as he watched them all rapidly improve after blowing off some much needed steam. Even Jack and Sharon had turned a new leaf. 

“Now, I know y’all have been patiently waiting to hear what kind of party I got planned to celebrate,” Hank’s sly smile beamed over their surprised expressions. They obviously had no idea he had been conspiring in secret to show them all a good time. “Since your graduation just so happens to fall on a huge holiday, Captain Larkin and I have deemed it appropriate to make this occasion a big one. I wanna see your best costumes, people. Booze, food, and candy to go all around.”

The roar of excitement that came from the crowd nearly made Hank go deaf, but he smiled none-the-less. 

Tonight was the night. He was gonna gather the courage to finally tell Bear how he felt, and he had a brilliant idea on how he would do it. 

\---

Later that night, The Rusty Pick looked as lively as it used to before the bombs dropped. Lights and Halloween decorations covered every surface, giving it the perfect atmosphere for a raucous all-nighter. 

Hank arrived late and in full costume, dressed as some random mole-like mascot for some defunct mining corporation he’d found lying around. As part of his master plan, it helped him blend in with the crowd easily. 

He just had to find Bear and drop the hint that it was him in this sweltering mascot costume. 

As he navigated through the drunken mass of people in full swing celebration his eyes absorbed the colorful costumes, some shoddily made and others over the top, and he smiled. It truly felt like nothing was wrong in the world and these kids weren’t the little pains in the ass he had known them as. He felt himself rather fond of them all now, their bright young faces now ready to bravely face the apocalypse. 

Hank’s favorite Paul Anka song, ‘Put your head on my Shoulder’, played over the speakers, barely audible over the loud voices and even louder laughter, but people were dancing nonetheless. 

He continued onward in hot pursuit of his quarry, his head flinching towards anything red-orange every now and then during his search. Eventually, he had to ask someone for directions, a fellow mascot wearing partygoer, and they pointed to a secluded corner of the large space.

He found Bear smoking at one of the two bar counters, all by himself while surrounded by the conversations of others. He wore an oversized beige trenchcoat and a matching detectives fedora. 

Hank sidled up to him, fumbling with the damn suit as he took an awkward seat next to him, “Mind if I sit here?”

Bear eyed him, the subtle hint of dark eyeshadow lining his eyes and a light coat of peach colored lipstick shading his mouth, “Uh...sure?”

Once settled, Hank leaned close, “Psst, it’s me. Hank.”

As the recognition filled Bear’s handsome, oak-leaf eyes he smiled humorously, “Hank?” 

His free hand reached up and pulled at the open mouth to try and peek inside as if he’d find Hank swallowed by a sentient mascot suit. 

Hank brushed his hand away gently and looked around conspiratorially, “Hey, hey, hey, don’t blow my cover, wildfire. I want them to cut loose, if they found out I was here I’d kill the mood. Also, I kind of wanted to surprise you.”

“So that’s why you looked like you was up to something when you said you weren’t coming,” Bear smirked like he’d been let in on a dirt secret, flashing Hank his gold tooth. 

“Pretty clever, I know,” Hank’s eyes grazed up and down over Bear’s body, seeing that the collar of the coat revealed a spanse of Bear’s chest as if he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath, and those crude thoughts made themselves known once again, “So...who am I hanging out with tonight?”

Bear popped the collar of the trench-coat up and pulled the brim of the hat down over his eyes with a sly smirk, “I’m Humphrey Bogart...Of all the gin joints, in all the town, in all the world, you walk into mine.”

Complete with a hilariously atrocious impression of how the actor talked, Hank was reminded how head over heels he was for Bear. He chuckled softly and with open affection for him.

Maybe it was because Hank had pre-gamed before even showing up, and maybe he had a little too much already to counteract the jitters, but there was just something about Bear that completely enthralled him right now. More than normal. 

It didn’t help, either, that Hank had been feeling this yearning for so long that he felt like he would burst, but he managed to keep it together for now. 

“I see it now,” Hank smiled sloppily, although the makeup intrigued his curiosity. Regardless, it was a good look for Bear in his eyes. “Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Bogart?”

Bear tapped his painted nails on his bottom lip as he mulled it over, “You know what...sure. I earned it, but...make it a bottle. I don’t mind takin’ this little duet to a less crowded place so you can get some fresh air.”

“Oh thank the heavens above, this son of a bitch itches like hell. I really didn’t think this through,” Hank felt his heart swelling alongside his relief at the thought of getting out of the costume. He hadn’t expected Bear to use the, ‘let’s go somewhere private’ card before he could but he was relieved nonetheless.

Bear led the way to a secluded clearing where his truck was parked some distance away from the party. Closeby, the remnants of a small fire were still filled with glowing embers. It appeared that Bear had already been here at some point earlier. 

Once Hank was sure the coast was clear he eagerly removed the mascot head and tucked it under his arm. The crisp October air touched his humid face and mixed with the tipsy bliss he was feeling. He stood still for a moment to soak in the moment. 

The night sky was a brilliant, glittering tapestry above them and the full moon bathed them in soft blue light. One of the only good things that had come out of the world ending was how clear the sky had become at night. Hank could have stared at it all night if he was inclined. 

“Wanna help me wake this little fire up?” Bear brought him back down to earth. 

Hank smiled at him contentedly, feeling like tonight would be a perfect night. The sound of Bear’s voice mellowed him more than the night-sky and that feeling was more precious to Hank than the distant swirling galaxies that witnessed them. He set the head down and knelt to help Bear until the comforting crackle of the warm fire replaced the ambience of silence.

Bear cracked open the whiskey with a deer-antler handled knife and turned on the radio in his truck before he sat next to Hank on a fallen log. 

Together they sat and just talked. It felt like they had known each-other for years. 

They sat like that for what was several hours, but only felt like minutes to them. Just sharing laughs and slowly becoming so drunk they could barely stand, let alone form a comprehensible sentence.

“And then I…” Bear paused to burp a little, then laugh at himself, before he continued with the punchline to his long rambling joke, “Then I said, ‘Baby...that’s my elbow’.”

Hank doubled over in a fit of hysterics, tears of laughter spilling out of the corner of his eyes. “Goddamn, Bear. You’re killin’ me, here.”

“That’s my revenge for makin’ me file shit al...alphabethi...owlpha, oh fuck it,” He couldn’t contain his giggles when he heard Hank’s heart-warming laugh. It was such a deep and full sound that made him feel held. 

He stood up, determined to show Hank something he would appreciate to repay him for everything, and stumbled towards the bed of his truck. The poetry book was still in the glove compartment, and he wanted Hank to have it. 

Hank tried to blink away his bleary vision as his eyes were drawn to a tear in the seam of the slacks Bear wore, just at calf level. He pointed and slurred his words, “Oh shit...don’t look now... but I think you ripped your pants.”

Bear’s head swung back to look down like Hank had told him there was a huge spider on his leg, but when he saw the tear he let out a laugh that really stuck with Hank. It sounded maniacal, making a sort of hilarious ‘nnnyahaha’ sound as it started like a hum in his mouth and bellowed out abruptly. 

He didn’t know why, but Hank’s heart swooned at how goofy Bear was.

“I darn near forgot,” Bear turned around to face Hank again with a wicked grin on his face, “This is a two phase costume.”

“Is that so?” Hank’s eyes felt hot and sleepy from the booze as he imagined cuddling with Bear later. 

“You’ve met Humphrey Bogart, but get ready for your worst nightmare,” Bear loudly announced, just as corny as a freakshow announcer. He balled one fist over the waist tie around the trench coat and another on the pants, the sudden ripping sound of velcro giving Hank a shock as he tore them away to reveal what was underneath. 

“Slutty Humphrey Bogart!” Bear exclaimed with the coat pooling around his elbows and the pants left forgotten on the ground nearby.

Hank felt his heart stop for a beat. 

He was wearing a tight little cornflower blue corset, black lace garters, a thong that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and, goodness gracious, a pair of thigh high socks. Hank felt like he’d died and gone to the pearly gates. 

“God rest my soul.” Hank muttered as he felt his heart pound with excitement. 

The stupid costume Hank still wore was off in a heartbeat as Bear sauntered over to him. His already painfully stiff cock felt like it was going to tear through his pants as Bear made a show out of slowly sitting in his lap. 

“You like it?” Bear’s voice whispered into Hank’s ear with a warmingly inviting tone as he twisted around to drag his lips along Hank’s jawline, leaving a trail of lipstick as he did. He grinded his supple lower back onto Hank’s groin, earning a full body shiver and a low groan from Hank. 

Hank’s hands glided down Bear’s sides until they curled under each thigh. He spread Bear’s legs apart until they were folded to either side of Hank’s knees, locking them in place, “Goddamn, wildfire, you know I do.” 

His fingertips dug deep, needy grooves into the soft flesh of Bear’s inner thighs, slowly making their way up. Bear’s back arched as one of Hank’s hands constricted around the shaft of his cock through the underwear and languidly rubbed up and down. 

He openly moaned, a sound that was music to Hank’s ear, and bucked his hips into Hank’s palm. 

“F-fuck...me…” Bear whined as the tip of his dick slipped out of the top of the underwear. Hank’s thumbpad found it almost immediately and teased at it lightly. 

“You want me to do it right here?” Hank kissed Bear's neck with feverish eagerness. He would do anything Bear wanted him to do right now. 

“Truck-bed,” Bear’s eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted as Hank’s hand slipped past the underwear, “Oh fuck Hank... I want you so bad.”

Hank picked him up, bridal style, and loaded him in the back of the truck carefully. He was surprised to see just how homey it looked underneath the unassuming truck-bed cover and it took his attention away from the heated act for just a split second. 

Bear had installed a mattress in here that looked cozier than the bunks back at the station. There was a skylight above them that was lined with a string of fairy lights. Various other objects were scattered about that made it look lived in. 

“So this is where you go to hide, huh,” Hank closed the tail-gate behind him and finally turned to look at Bear. 

Bear had already sprawled himself out over the mattress, thigh’s spread wide as he stroked himself and looked at Hank like an animal in heat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Hank’s eyes traced a prominent vein in Bear’s shaft as his fingertips moved up and down, leading up to the tip that was already leaking pre-cum. He crawled over Bear on hands and knees, looming over him until their lips aligned. 

Bear tasted like honey and whiskey, and it was everything Hank had hoped for. His tongue slipped around with Hank’s enthusiastically as they kissed for the first time. Hank could feel those sparks fly, the same one’s his mama told him to wait for before he settled. He’d made up his mind. 

Hank had to be with him. 

“I want you, Hank,” Bear slurred his words as he lifted his hips to meet Hanks. 

Hank sat upright and dragged one hand from Bear’s collarbone, over the laces of the corset, and down his taught stomach until his palm met Bear’s cock. He other hand gripped onto Bear’s hip with bruising desire as he restrained himself from going too fast. Bear’s body moved in harmony with Hank’s touch, his hips rising up farther and farther until they leveled with Hank’s groin. 

“Slow down, wildfire,” Hank lowered Bear’s arched body back down and spread his thighs once again, “We got all night. Don’t you worry.”

His attention turned to Bear’s inner thigh, plucking up the edge of one of the thigh high stockings in his teeth and pulling it down to the knee. He moved back up and wrapped his mouth around a patch of flesh very near to the intersection where his leg and hip met, intending to leave a love-bite, until he heard something. 

It sounded like someone sawing logs in the distance. 

“You hear something?” Hank looked up at Bear and was equally amused and crest-fallen when he saw that Bear had passed out. 

His forehead hit the mattress between Bear’s legs in defeat as he collected himself. With a forlorn sigh, Hank let the matter go entirely in favor of letting Bear sleep. 

Hank covered his lover with a blanket and dimmed the lights before he himself felt sleep come over him. He had been patient so far, and now that he was so close Hank knew he could wait until the moment came. They had all the time in the world to be together.


	9. Duty

November 1st 2082

Both of them came to a sputtering awareness, feeling like hot shit, as the radio in Bear’s truck crackled with the booming, irritated voice of Melody Larkin.

“Alright, y’all had your fun. I want all new Fire Breathers to report in for assignment by two o’clock, Captain Larkin, over and out,” Her voice faded away as Hank shut the radio off and ran a hand over his face. 

“Fucking hell, I forgot to switch off of that channel before I passed out,” He muttered groggily and turned to face Bear. 

Bear grumbled, wrapped the blanket around himself tighter like a cocoon and closed his eyes. 

“Come on, we don’t wanna get skinned alive,” Hank smiled at him as Bear’s face disappeared behind the blanket. It was a small but endearingly cute act. One of the many in a long list of reasons why Hank was enamored with him. “Breakfast is on me.”

Bear poked one eye out of his ‘shell’ and considered Hank with a wide-eyed interest, “Breakfast?”

“That’s right, wildfire,” Hank opened the tailgate and bemoaned his existence as he was met with the cruel sunlight. “Jesus, I’m getting too old to drink like I used to.”

He took the role of driver to spare Bear the trouble and walked around to climb into the cabin. Bear used the back window to slide into the passenger side, blanket still wrapped around him as he maneuvered himself. He sprawled out on the bench seat and tucked his feet behind Hank’s back. 

‘Fucking adorable,’ Hank thought to himself as his smile extended easily. 

“I forgot what a hangover felt like,” Bear croaked, “This shits for the fuckin’ birds.”

“No kidding,” Hank started the truck and lowered the sun-visor. Not that it helped any, but Hank still tried to block out the migraine-inducing light. 

Bear sat up after a few minutes, the motion of the truck making him feel cold-sweat nausea. He looked down to his lap as a breeze crossed over him from the open window and saw his dick just hanging out. Gears began grinding in his head as he tried to piece together the events of last night. 

He tucked himself back in and glanced at Hank, feeling an uncharacteristic amount of shame. 

‘Did I come onto him last night?’ Bear pondered. He could recall bits and pieces, but had no memory of them committing the act. The realization hit him as suddenly as a punch to the gut when he saw the streak of lipstick on Hank’s jaw. 

‘Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,’ Bear panicked internally, ‘I did it.’

He wondered if Hank thought poorly of him now after seeing him like that. Worried that maybe he had been too forward and ruined his chances with Hank. Just the thought of Hank rejecting him was enough to make him want to shrivel up. 

They pulled into the station before Bear could work up the courage to ask Hank. 

“Shit…” Hank had a realization of his own as he saw Melody standing outside with a sour look on her face. 

Bear already knew exactly what was bothering Hank, and he was eager to help in any way as well as run away to somewhere private where he could let his critical-mass reaching anxiety explode. “Hang back, I’ll create a distraction for ya. Just make sure my sacrifice ain’t in vain.” 

Before Hank could even think to protest, Bear exited the truck and started marching confidently towards Melody. Hank caught a glimpse of her bewildered face before the shouting started. He shook his head, feeling no small amount of pity for Bear, but an even greater feeling of gratitude for covering his back. Hank promised himself to make it up to him as he saw his chance and snuck in through the garage and up to his office. 

Mere minutes after settling himself into the chair facing the computer and making himself look a little less disheveled, Melody plowed through the door and brought with her an angry cloud of righteous thunder. 

“Can you believe the balls on some of these chuckle-heads?” She grumbled, “And where the hell have you been? I been handing out assignments all damn morning.”

“Had some paperwork I wanted to wrap up over at McClintock,” Hank swiveled around in the chair once he was sure his straight face was securely framed onto his face. He covered the lipstick smear on his jaw with one sweaty hand.

“Oh yea? Where is it, then?” Melody held out her hand in a gesture that showed she didn’t really buy what Hank was selling. 

“I left it,” It was better to bold-face lie than tell the truth, that he broke the one rule Melody had for him. ‘Don’t sleep with the recruits.’

“Hell’s bells Hank,” She rubbed her fingertips over her temples, “You know what, I’m in a good mood today. I’ll drop it, because I’m so nice, and let you take over handing out the rest of the jobs.”

“Yes ma’am,” Hank stood and took the folder from her, practically bolting out of the office before his facade fell. 

He took a glance through the names as his feet automatically carried him forward until he came across the name he was looking for. Hank opened the file and read it, stomach sinking lower into his gut as he did so. 

“This isn’t happening,” His voice sounded weak when he heard it. It didn’t seem to belong to him. “Not now.”

Hank let the folder close as he half-jogged around the station, trying to find Bear. He searched high and low as panic and worry flooded him. He couldn’t help but feel like fate was just messing with him now.

First, he left without saying goodbye. Then, Bear vanished. The months of agonizing longing as they followed regulations. Now this. 

The file said Bear was already gone, scheduled to leave five minutes ago, but Hank couldn’t believe it. He thought maybe, just maybe, if he was quick he could at least say goodbye before their duties tore them apart. Melody was strict, and likely told him to leave immediately, but Hank hoped beyond all hope Bear had managed to stall his transport. 

Him, and five others, were being sent to cross the Savage Divide and aid the BOS for six long weeks. 

Hank made it to the garage in record time, but he was already too late.


	10. Return

December 24th 2082

The six weeks bled like eons for Hank as he tried to carry on with daily life as if he wasn’t feeling a crippling loss. He moved like a ghost sometimes, lamenting the fact that they had lost radio contact with the BOS and the group sent out to help them two weeks into their mission. 

With Bear gone, he just wasn’t himself. He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t think straight. 

An extra seventh week and five days came and went, and Hank felt utterly hopeless. 

To add to the mix of already bad news, today marked one of the darkest days in Charleston’s history as a raider attack that took several Responder lives occurred early in the morning. It was a small consolation that one had been captured alive, and Melody was now down at the Capitol handling interrogations, but Hank still felt the stress compound into his back until it left him feeling twisted. 

He sat in front of the radio, begging the universe to give him a break. Just one good thing. He would prefer if the void gave Bear back to him, but at that point doubt replaced his normally optimistic outlook. Not much good had happened in his absence. 

The governments of both Charleston and Morgantown were rotting from the inside, and raiders had gotten even bolder. It all felt so hopeless.

It was a small blessing, however, that his nightmares hadn’t returned after the one he had a month prior. Hank had seen the dam break, flood waters consuming Charleston whole, but it seemed like it had just been another false alarm. He even checked the dam for himself, finding it soothed him ever so slightly knowing it was as sturdy as always. 

He raised his mug of coffee to his lips as he let his mind wander aimlessly, bouncing from thought to thought as his frazzled state of mind couldn’t grasp one solid concept for long, and just as his lips touched the rim a voice crackled over the radio. 

Hank dropped the mug, letting it shatter on the ground, and he tuned the frequency to hear the voice more clearly. 

“Charleston Fire Department, this is Fire Breather echo-four,” Bear’s voice came in and sent a wave of rapturous relief over Hank, “We’re almost home. Repeat. This is Fire Breather echo-four, coming home.”

Hank got up out of the chair and danced in full-tilt delight. He felt so light-headed that he could pass out here and now, but Hank held together just like the dam did. 

Minutes later and just as Hank reached the bottom of the stairs, Bear pulled into the garage with the other members of his team looking completely and utterly exhausted, but unharmed. He shut the door of the second ‘borrowed’ vehicle now in his possession. Later, when the dust settled, he’d tell Melody that the army wagon he’d showed up in was a donation. Hopefully it’s owners wouldn’t come looking for it. 

He managed two steps before Hank came out of nowhere and practically tackled him like a linebacker. 

“Wildfire,” Hank’s voice was full of desperate happiness, swinging Bear around in his arms as he held him aloft. 

Bear melted into the more than welcome hug, letting his legs limply dangle at the knee. He smiled as Hank’s warmth radiated against his face. The fact that someone his size could be so sneaky made him laugh into Hank’s neck. “Hey, big guy.”

“Missed you,” Hank put him back down onto solid ground after a long moment and stooped to keep his arms around Bear’s middle. 

Bear closed his eyes, inhaling the clean, warm smell coming from Hank’s clothes. “I missed you too.”

They took their reunion to the privacy of the roof and sat together in a pair of lawn chairs sitting under a fabric canopied guard tower that overlooked Charleston. Hank refused to let his hands leave Bear again, and he kept one hand on his knee as Bear slouched into the chair heavily. 

“Woops,” Bear abruptly sat up again as his hand touched something hard in his pocket, “Before I forget, I got you a present. Not much but...well here.”

He presented a poorly wrapped rectangle to Hank with a warm-hearted smile. 

Hank took it, seeing the effort and the struggle in the wrinkles on the wrapping paper and the crudely placed tape. He felt both appreciation and guilt simultaneously. Bear had done something thoughtful for him, but he’d forgotten completely to get anything for him even after thinking about him non-stop since he left. On Christmas Eve of all days.

“I didn’t…” Hank rose his eyes to Bear’s dolefully.

“Take it easy, I got what I wanted for Christmas,” Bear folded his arms behind his hat-covered head and pointed his chin at the present, “Go on.”

Hank tore the paper until it revealed a small leather bound book of poetry. The corner of his mouth curled upwards with genuine appreciation. 

“I found that a while ago, when I was still in Morgantown,” Bear looked mildly embarrassed, but continued, “It made me think of you. Before I was shipped off the hell’s asshole, I managed to grab it.”

Hank flipped through the well-worn pages, seeing notes filling the margins of almost every page. 

“I, uh,” Bear’s eyes darted to the side sheepishly, “I read it. Front to back ‘bout...ten times. That’s my chicken scratch there. I...well, I hope you don’t mind it’s used.”

“It’s perfect, Bear.” Hank read a few of the notes, smiling at the notion that Bear was just as blunt when writing as he was talking, “The best gift I’ve ever gotten. This means a lot to me.”

Bear well and truly looked like the perfect imitation of a deer caught in headlights, “You...you like it? Really?”

Hank set the book on his lap and smoothed his fingertips over its worn surface, “Do I look like a good liar?”

A sense of accomplishment washing over him, Bear shrugged and accepted Hank’s point. He knew Hank was probably going to eventually ask where he had been for seven weeks, and leaned back again to wait for it.

“What happened to y’all out there?” Hank was hoping Bear would tell him it wasn’t nearly as bad as his anxiety told him it was. 

Right on cue.

“Sugar honey iced tea,” Bear sighed with a loud groan, “Where to start? We get there and these goddamn power-armor freaks start shitting all over us. Not literally.” 

He briefly opened his eyes to shoot Hank a look before he continued. 

“So after a week of this I said, ‘Dagummit, y’all are a pain in the ass’. I tell the others we ought to stand up to them, so we do,” Bear shook his head dramatically, “Then miss fussy britches comes up all ‘How dare you speak to us like that!’ Mothman Almighty...it was like they witnessed the apocalypse all over again.”

Flawless impersonation of typical BOS indignation and the comment about Mothman aside, both of which made Hank chuckle, he still anticipated the story to take a turn for the worse.

“Long story short, we were thrown under the bus,” Bear scratched at his forehead through the beanie he was wearing. “When our six weeks were up we just started walking home. After the welcome we got there was no way in hell we were gonna stick around.”

“That does sound like them,” Hank shook his head, disappointed in his former faction. 

“Then I fell down a fuckin’ hole in the goddamn ground and got this for my trouble,” Bear pulled his hat off, wild red hair fluttering in several different directions, as he revealed a large cut on his brow in the exact same place where the bear had got him. “What are the goddamn odds?”

“Lemme see that,” Hank set down the book on a nearby surface and reached over to inspect Bear’s face, “How does it feel?”

Bear closed his eyes as Hank’s rough fingers glided over his cheekbone and temple, testing the strength of the stitches with a gentle tug, “Itchy.”

Hank reached with his other hand to turn Bear’s head by his chin, placing his thumb just below the lip and cradling the point of his jaw under his forefinger. He chuckled and ribbed Bear with a friendly tone, “There’s no helping it, you’re gonna be disfigured for life.”

“There go my devilish good-looks,” Bear opened his eyes and he gave Hank that look that said more than words ever could. Most importantly, three simple words that he tried to impart on Hank with the depth of his gaze. 

Hank absorbed the meaning in his eyes and felt his chest tighten. This was it.

He leaned forward until their lips met, offering his entire heart to him and speaking after the first initial kiss, “I don’t seem to mind.”

The winter wind blew through the trees and across the rooftop, reminding them that it was below freezing outside. Bear shivered, teeth clattering, as their faces remained almost close enough to touch. 

“Let’s get inside, get you warm,” Before he let Bear lead the way, he stole one more kiss, pressing their bodies together tightly with his arms. 

Sleeping in Old Blue was out of the question, especially in this weather, so they both resigned that there would be no love making tonight. Even though they both wanted it, somehow the issue wasn’t as bothersome once they climbed under the sheets on a top bunk. 

Bear pressed his back into Hank’s chest and let his furnace like heat lull him into an almost immediate sleep. He hadn’t realized just how tired he was until he was secure in Hank’s arms. The way he fit against Hank’s body so neatly felt like he was meant to be here. He could get used to this.


	11. Flood

December 25th 2082

Hank woke to find a blissful sight splayed at an odd angle over his chest. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he wondered how Bear managed to get into this position without him waking up. His legs were propped straight up against the wall and crossed at the ankles, back arched over Hank’s middle, and his head and arms dangled over the side of the bunk precariously. 

“Wildfire,” Hank ran his finger along the bridge of Bear’s nose softly so as not to startle him awake, “Wake up, weirdo.”

Bear came around with a loud and sudden snore, straining his neck to look around with a briefly bewildered look. “Whosat?”

“You sleep like a freak,” Hank helped him up, supporting him by using his arm as a bar under Bear’s back, “Can’t believe I never noticed that.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bear rubbed his eyes and squinted. He had a hilariously exaggerated bed head and Hank couldn’t help running his fingers through the hot mess. “Wait til we get to the chapter where I start sleep talking.”

He crumpled over onto one side of Hank by the wall and buried himself there with his head resting on Hank’s shoulder. 

“Is that right?” Hank pulled the covers over him and curled his arm around his shoulders. “Do you sleepwalk too?”

“You bet your bottom I do,” Bear’s voice was muffled by Hank’s chest. He smiled into the firm muscle there, feeling like he could die happy. “My mama used to say, ‘ it’s just downright unnatural, that boy ain’t right’.” 

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Hank chuckled and reached over his chest to push a wayward lock of copper hair from Bear’s eye. His thumb rubbed soft stripes over his peach fuzz skin.

“Wanna hear it?” Bear quirked his brow, peeking his eye half-lidded at Hank. Now that they seemed to be alone, everyone else seemingly already out and about while they had slept in, he felt a little more comfortable talking about his past. 

“I’ll admit, I’ve been dying to hear some of your stories,” Hank smiled sleepily at him, “Hillbillies tell the best stories.”

Bear exhaled through his nostrils, a half chuckle, half sigh, “Well...when this ‘hillbilly’ was little, about five or six, me ‘n my mama lived in a little single wide trailer with a tin roof. You could hear every single drop hit when it rained.”

Hank closed his eyes to picture it. 

“It was raining that night, real hard, and I guess we must of watched some sort of horror movie, I was too little to remember. Mama told it to me like this,” Bear paused to huddle closer and drape one leg over Hank, “She’s sleepin’, right? Her bedroom is next to the kitchen, right past a big ol’ window that floods with moonlight on certain nights. It’s pouring outside, thunder and lightning crashing. Mama’s bed faces the door and she was just laying there when suddenly she feels eyes on her.”

He paused for dramatic effect. 

“Now it ain’t our bloodhounds, Gunner and Diesel are just laying there on the bed. She sits up in bed and stares at the hallway, pitch black,” By the sound of Bear’s voice alone, Hank could almost picture his crooked smile, “Lightning flashes and she sees a little figure in the doorway...holding a big ol’ kitchen knife.”

Bear started to shake as a fit of laughter nearly gave away the ending, “Now, my mama ain’t a soft woman. She raised seven boys and she ain’t scared of shit. But she just starts hollerin’ and screamin’ so loud.” 

Hank was already grinning ear to ear as he pictured little Bear sleepwalking and giving his mother a fright. He’d heard some stories about people walking out into fields in their sleep or something else mundane, but acting like the ‘devil-child’ while asleep was a new one to him. 

“Of course, that’s when I wake up and I start screamin’ n’ cryin’, cause I think my mama’s in trouble. I started so quick the knife flew from my hand. She keeps screamin’ cause she thought I’d dropped the damn thing on my foot and she knew how scared I was of sharp things. The dogs are howling, she tries to get outta bed and check if I’m okay and trips. I just keep screamin’.”

Hank let out a full bellied laugh that shook the entire bunk. He was in tears halfway through the story as it was, but by the end his feet were kicking. “Holy fucking shit, you were a little child of the corn, weren’t you.”

“Had a bowl cut an’ everything,” Bear yawned with a toothy, satisfied grin and rubbed his palm over the expanse of Hank’s strong chest. 

Ever so softly, Hank traced the tattoos on Bear’s hand as it rested over his heart. His fingertips mapped the details of each ossified and callous knuckle. He could feel the years of use and vowed that he’d build a life with Bear. One that would keep them from ever having to fight alone again. 

His fingers intertwined with Bear’s as he heard the beginnings of a snore come from his ‘wildfire’, and let his eyes close. 

They dozed off together and were at peace until seven o’clock in the morning, an hour and a half after everyone else had left their bunks. 

“Lieutenant Madigan?” The timid voice of Sharon called out, “Sir, uh-”

Hank stared at her like she’d pissed in his Sugar Bombs, but that isn’t what had interrupted her. It was when Bear sat up from his hiding place inbetween Hank’s side and his arm that made her freeze. 

“Whasat?” He muttered as he tried to blink away the sleep. 

Sharon looked back and forth between them, connecting the dots easily, “I-I’m sorry sir. I was...going to ask if you’d seen Bear but…”

“Spit it out, Murray,” Hank had miserable tolerance for bush-beaters, but that wasn’t the real reason he felt so testy. He knew that he would have to deal with the fallout of him and Bear being discovered eventually, but he hoped his bubble wouldn’t burst as soon as it did. Now everyone would know, Melody included. He wasn’t looking forward to that lecture.

“Captain Larkin sent a message, she would like Bear to report to the Capitol and brief her on the mission,” She snapped to attention and sputtered out the sentence rapidly, “Sir!”

Hank stared at her, then Bear, and back to her. He didn’t have to, but Sharon was still learning to find her confidence, and Hank felt somewhat guilty for snapping at her. “Thankyou, Murray. You’re er...dismissed?”

She couldn’t have possibly left the room sooner. There was big news to share with the whole station, afterall. 

Bear sat on his feet with his knees folded and struggled to keep his heavy eyelids open, “Merry Christmas, me, here’s a mountain of paperwork.”

“Don’t forget the gossip that’s comin’ our way,” Hank sat up and coiled his arms around Bear in an easy-going embrace. 

“Let ‘em,” Bear buried his face in his chest and hummed, “Don’t give a rat’s ass what any other varmints say, your opinion is the only one I care about.”

“In that case,” Hank reached up between them and cupped Bear’s face to lift it to his, “No more hiding, yea?”

Bear muttered a distracted sound in agreement as his eyes drifted between Hank’s full lips and his incredible light reactive eyes. He leaned forward and kissed Hank, wondering if it would always feel like he was floating down a slow moving river on a hot summer day when they touched. He hoped it would. 

“I oughta let you go, before you get in trouble,” Hank reluctantly released his lover. 

“Alright, alright,” Bear groaned as he slid out of the bunk and his feet hit the floor with a fleshy thud. He started shoving his boots on without bothering with the socks, tying the laces in a half-assed manner. 

“Maybe when you get back I’ll have a present for you,” Hank stretched out onto his side and propped his head up on one fist as he tugged up the bottom of his shirt flirtatiously. 

Bear’s head whipped around at neck-breaking speeds as his eyes immediately landed on the exposed patch of flawless dark skin. He climbed the bunk just enough to bury his face there and wrap his lips over Hank’s hip, drawing languid circles with his heated tongue. 

Hank released a sudden and somewhat loud moan from the searing touch before Bear abruptly pulled away, leaving him with a burning heat gradually rising inside of him.

“There, now we’ll both have blue balls,” Bear smirked at him devilishly, flashing him his gold tooth, and he left the room. 

“Son of a bitch,” Hank muttered to himself as he felt himself ache for more. For Bear. He was annoyed at first, but he couldn’t stay that way. A small chuckle pushed past his lips. “I’m definitely in love.”

Hank got out of bed after a few minutes, undecided over whether he should go take care of himself in the showers or just ignore it until Bear came back. He ultimately came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t have to wait long, so he waited until he felt calm enough and started the day late. 

He had the lounge all to himself and was in the middle of cooking some breakfast, reading the book Bear had given him while planning how he would give him his ‘present’ without someone else barging in, when fate sent another message. 

His favorite Paul Anka song warbled and cut out from the jukebox as a thunderous boom shook the entire station. Hank held onto the counter as the ground beneath him rumbled from what had to be an earthquake, but something was off. 

The station's automated alarm system screeched at him like the coming of the trumpets at the end times. 

Hank became a numb passenger trapped inside of his own head as his body moved autonomously. Time seemed to splinter and shuffle out of place as he was simultaneously climbing into the back of a fire engine truck and back at the Rusty Pick the night he listened to Bear sing and play guitar. 

He saw his mama on the porch overlooking the family farm, crying her eyes out, and the panicked look of his fellow Fire Breathers as they barreled towards Charleston.

The devastating magnitude of the flood, seen even from the Charleston Fire Department’s position on top of a large hill, and the day his boots touched ground in Anchorage. 

His first kiss. The bombs dropping. Basic training. Elder Maxson’s voice. The pretty flowers in mama’s garden. 

Bear sobbing in his arms. 

He felt his soul snap back to his body as Bear’s face floated in the void of his incomprehensible, abstract thoughts. 

“Not him,” Hank muttered under his breath with his teeth gritted so tightly he felt pain, “Not him. Not him. Not again. I just fucking got him back.”

Nobody seemed to bat an eye as he repeated ‘Not him’ over and over until his voice reached a throat tearing volume. No one flinched when his fist repeatedly hit the inside of the fire engine until he felt his anger morph into grief. They were all in a catatonic state. 

The truck tires squealed to a stop and they rushed out without a second thought, but all they could do was stare at the devastation before their eyes. 

Charleston was gone.


	12. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I apologize for how short this chapter is.)

December 26th 2082

Hank sat in a medical tent with his face buried in his hands. 

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. Hadn't so much as spoken a single word in twenty-four hours.

From eight-thirty, when the dam burst and killed thousands in the homes, to now he and others had been doing everything they could to help. Reinforcements showed at dawn, and he finally caught a moment to sit later in the evening. 

His sore muscles screamed, but they weren’t nearly as loud as the hollowness in his heart. 

So many bodies in the mud, broken and shattered into terrible shapes. He saw the faces when he closed his eyes, forever trapped in an expression of fear or shock. Their glassy eyes looking back at him and asking, ‘Why?’

He’d already cried until there were no more tears to cry. Screamed until his voice was just a hoarse whisper. Worked his hands ragged and bloody.

So many bodies. 

Families. Kids. Innocent people. 

The love of his life. 

Bear and many others were still considered missing for now, but that was a meaningless consolation for Hank. 

He moldered in the chair, half of him willing him to get up and keep working until he dropped while the other dwelled on dark, pitiless thoughts. His body was perfectly still after the shaking stopped. A statuesque image of despair.

“You better put me on a child-leash, I seem to have a talent for vanishing when we’re separated,” The sound of that voice was a blessed relief for Hank, but it also took what little energy he had left out of him. 

“I just just might fuckin do that,” Hank pulled Bear by the waist until his face was buried in his stomach.

Safe and sound one more, the both of them picked a cot in the corner and collapsed into a dreamless sleep.


	13. United

January 11th 2083

Even days later, the disaster still didn’t feel real. 

The death toll climbed to the thousands and kept growing by the hour. Captain Larkin’s husband had been included in that number. 

She and many others that had been stuck in the middle of the chaos and survived carried a different look than those who were out of harm's way. Same look Bear had when he thought no one was looking. 

That day, they had just left the underground jail cell where their captive raider resided. 

Bear’s gaze stretched for miles as he could recall the way the building groaned against the weight of several tons of deadly pressure. He felt it in his bones even now. Like a vengeful phantom bent on haunting his every waking day. 

He and Melody had a long talk somewhere between then and now. Just chatting like old friends. A welcome distraction for two people who weren’t ever any good at the ‘people’ part of life. Melody reminded him of his mother, the good parts at least, and she saw him as the son she never had. Neither of them had the gumption to admit this out loud, but it didn’t have to be said. 

“So,” She laced her fingers together, palm to palm, and rested her chin on her crossed thumbs, “You and Hank, huh?”

They sat in the office together, sharing a coffee as part of their new bonding ritual. “That’s what I said too. Don’t know what I did to earn it, but it feels like an honest-to-goodness angel walked into my life.”

“It’s not a bad match,” Melody shrugged nonchalantly, “Now that ‘too big for his britches’ kid Jack and sweet naive Sharon. That’s a head-scratcher.”

Bear half-smiled into his mug. Exhaustion from the never-ending work left him feeling too low to expend more energy than what was necessary. Each and every Responder shared this state of existence. 

“My husband,” Melody paused to compose herself. This was the first time she’d mentioned him since the flood. With a stiff upper lip, she was able to continue, “My husband and I weren’t supposed to get married. Our families absolutely hated each-other.”

“Appalachian Romeo and Juliet,” Bear turned to her with a cheeky smirk, “I didn’t peg you as the romantic type, Captain.”

“Oh, honey, I ain’t got a romantic bone in my body, I assure you,” She shook her head and hid a rare smile behind her hands, “But he was...special. We had something most people never get to have in their entire life.”

Bear felt a dreamy smile effortlessly curl at each corner of his mouth as his mind automatically pictured Hank. He hoped what they had was ‘special’. It certainly felt that way to him. 

“I don’t know if y’all got what I had but,” Melody sighed and gave him a sarcastic eye-roll, “You’ll find out when you both get to be about my age.”

“If I get there without dying first, I’ll holler,” Bear chuckled and took another sip of coffee. 

“I look forward to it, son,” Melody nodded her head to the door, “You got the rest of the day off. I seen you work yourself to the bone, and you’re already downright skeletal as it is, figure you earned it. Get some rest, go canoodle with Hank, I don’t care. We got it covered for now.”

“Thanks, Captain. You’re a good woman,” Bear set his mug down, “I mean it.”

Melody made a curmudgeonly ‘pheh’ noise and shooed him away with her hands, “Go on git.”

In the bunk room, Hank trudged in from a long night cleaning up the rubble of Charleston. He had been covered head to toe in mud and sweat and, after a long shower, his bedraggled body only wanted to lay down. 

With a heavy thud, he picked the first bunk in sight and collapsed onto it. He didn’t bother putting on clothes and just let his eyes cement shut with a towel still wrapped around his waist. Nothing and no one in the world could tear him from the bed. 

Almost no one. 

He smiled fondly as the weight of another human dropped onto his back and he made a playful ‘oof’ sound in response. 

“Well, here I am,” Bear’s breath tickled against his ear as his hands snaked under and around Hank’s shoulders. “What are your other two wishes?”

“Is that your best pick up line?” Hank muttered into the pillow and chuckled. 

“Don’t like that one?” Bear rolled off of him to lay beside him and made a big show of pulling out invisible flashcards, even going as far as pretending to shuffle them, “Let’s see, Somebody better call God, cause heaven’s missing an angel.”

Hank rolled his eyes at him, but his smile was now a permanent fixture on his face.

“No? You must be tired,” Bear held his hands closer and squinted as if he was struggling to read the small letters, “Cause you been runnin’ through my mind all day.”

“Stop,” Hank groaned in good humor. 

“Baby,” Bear rolled his head to look Hank in the eyes, “I just shit my pants, can I get in yours?”

Hank clapped his hand over Bear’s mouth, muffling the still flowing bad pick up lines pouring out of Bear, and he pulled him closer. He sat up on one elbow and loomed over Bear until the muffled chatter stopped. 

“Wildfire, I’m not feelin’ myself today,” Hank enunciated every word with over-the-top exaggeration and included the cheesy eyebrow waggle to go with it, “Can I feel you instead?”

Bear’s brilliant eyes opened to their fullest and seemed to glitter as his laugh rose from his chest and bursted through Hank’s fingers. The sound, so happy and full of life, seemed to recharge Hank’s batteries as he joined in the fit of giggles. 

“Baby, you can feel me anytime you damn well please,” Bear relaxed his body, purposely letting his thighs split apart, “Let you in on a little secret, I’ve got a whatchu call it…’Hank’-ering?”

Hank sighed heavily and let his head drop like gravity had suddenly yanked it down, “That’s it. You’re about to get it now, goofball.”

He lifted his head and gave Bear a wily smirk before he climbed out of the bed. Bear sat up, leaning his back against the wall where the head of the bed was placed against, and watched Hank with rapt curiosity. 

“What am I getting?” He watched Hank turn on the radio and twist the dial until the volume filled the room with a slow love song, “What in tarnation are you doin’ putting a sock on the doorknob?” 

He was genuinely confused as Hank closed and locked the door with the sock dangling on the other side. 

As much as possible, Hank dimmed the lights in the room by flipping the switch that controlled the half of the room where he was staging his temporary love-nest. The light from the other side leaving just enough light to cast shadows over Bear’s handsome features. “Little trick I learned in college, don’t worry about the sock.”

Hank dropped the towel, letting Bear get a good look at what he was about to get. 

Pleasantly, Bear’s eyes widened in awe as his gaze wandered over every inch of Hank’s exposed skin. They lingered for a good long moment on his cock, lips parting slightly as his heart began to race. 

“Jesus...tap dancing Christ.” Without really thinking, Bear’s hand slid down to his own groin and he tugged at himself through his jeans. 

Hank’s eyes followed the movement, the chipped paint on Bear’s nails giving him a pleasant flashback. He climbed in between Bear’s legs, pushing the hand away to place his own there. 

“You remember Halloween?” His palm rubbed slowly but firmly against Bear’s rigid cock through the fabric.

Bear hummed into his balled fist as his hips bucked into Hank’s hand and he muttered a mollified, “I remember...fuckin blacked out before we could...ah-”

He trailed off as Hank wrenched his belt buckle open and curled his fingers around the top of his jeans. Hank tugged them off of his body enthusiastically and tossed them aside in a random direction before he dove down between Bear’s legs. His fingers pushed his underwear aside, bundling them closer to Bear’s crotch, until the junction between his thigh and hip was in plain view. 

Hank lowered his mouth and grinded his teeth on the spot, smiling with almost fiendish gratification as the simple act proved a theory he’d had about his copper-haired lover. 

Bear’s back arched like he’d been electrified and he gasped softly before a soft moan spilled from his open mouth. Hank’s tongue swirled over the weak spot in his tough exterior, drawing out even more sounds that excited Hank.

His hand stroked Bear’s bulge through his underwear with no intention of being too hasty. No matter how much Hank just wanted to just bend Bear over here and now, he was patient. He wanted this to last so he could savor every sound and every moment. 

He listened to Bear as he quivered and wondered what other parts of Bear were sensitive to the touch.

Hank sat up when he was satisfied with the bruises he’d made with his mouth and he tugged at Bear’s shirt until he sat up. Clumsily, Bear crossed his arms and pulled the shirt off so quickly the gold chain he wore wound up in his mouth and dangled from his bottom lip. 

His tousled hair and the dark, hungry look in his eyes gave Hank a strong feeling of heady arousal that had him convinced that he would do anything Bear asked him to. He’d probably even kill if Bear looked at him like that and asked. 

Hank reached up and touched the corner of Bear’s mouth with his thumb, causing the chain to fall. He slowly dragged his thumb along his bottom lip until he reached the other corner, then up and over his top lip. Halfway, Bear caught his digit with his tongue and pulled it into his mouth, closing his lips around it suggestively. 

“Goddamn,” Hank muttered under his breath as he felt Bear’s tongue fold and curl against the pad of his thumb. His heart was pounding at the thought of Bear’s mouth wrapped around his cock just like that, “You’re gonna kill me if you keep that up.”

He softly pushed Bear onto his back and refocused his efforts on finding Bear’s weaknesses. Hank was already fully aware of his own. He just wanted to hear his ‘wildfire’ moan. 

Hank’s mouth started at Bear’s jawline, stopping briefly to kiss him deeply and show off what his own tongue could do, before he trailed down. He stopped at the crescent shaped scar over Bear’s heart, gently showing appreciation for it’s healing by grazing his lips over the length of it. His mouth hovered over one of two soft pink nipples and he smirked as his breath tickled the spot enough to make Bear shiver. 

Bingo, Hank thought.

He sunk down and closed his mouth around the spot, the tip of his tongue drawing tight circles around the raised bud. 

A new sound, more contented than electrified, came from Bear as he melted into the touch. His legs almost naturally wrapped around Hank’s waist and settled comfortably there while his arms stretched above his head and gripped the sheets. 

Hank switched to the other nipple as his hand slipped past the elastic band of Bear’s boxers and wrapped firmly around the shaft. He stroked at it languidly while his thumb teased the tip. 

Bear ran his hands through his hair and folded them behind his head as he aimlessly grinded against Hank’s grip on his cock. His eyes closed of their own will as his spine arched and relaxed over and over. “Goddamn Hank I want it so bad...I feel like I’m gonna... fuck my dick’s so hard it fuckin’ hurts.”

“Slow down, wildfire. We’ll get there,” Hank sat up and took a moment to appreciate the way Bear looked so hot and bothered by his slow and steady touch. 

Unable to think straight long enough to find a better choice of words, Bear blurted out an impatient, “Fuck that, I been waiting a whole year for this. I’m fixin’ to have you break me in half.”

Realization dawned on Hank as he remembered what day it was. He’d almost forgotten after the days and weeks seemed to blend together post-disaster, “Has it really been that long?” 

A heart-warming feeling swelled his heart and he leaned over Bear to kiss him tenderly, “Are you admitting you’ve had a thing for me since we met?”

Bear’s eyes glanced to the side as he hit a mental block. He wanted to say the truth, that he fell quick and hard for him, but he was still working on allowing himself to be vulnerable around Hank. He simply nodded in response to Hank’s question, rendered speechless as his impatience was tempered by another fervent, loving kiss. 

“Me too, baby,” Hank sat up and pulled the band of Bear’s boxers down until his erection was free. He lowered himself to suck on the tip, dragging his tongue around the head for a moment before he guided Bear to raise his hips long enough to completely remove his boxers. 

Bear shivered from the suddenness of Hank’s descent, gasping breathlessly as his cock became buried to the base in the wet heat of Hank’s mouth. Hank’s hands slithered under and around his thighs, holding him in place while his head bobbed slowly up and down. 

He could feel Hank’s tongue slide against the bottom of his shaft and swirl over the tip, over and over, until the only things he could think about was Hank and how good it felt. 

“Jesus, Hank,” Bear whispered like he was swearing a solemn oath from the heart as he gripped the bars of the headboard and a full body quake left him seeing stars. 

Hank smirked as he came up for air, a new idea coming to mind. He rolled Bear onto his side and crawled up behind to lay beside him, chest to back. Bear twisted his head around in time to catch Hank wetting his fingers with a devious look in his amber eyes before the hand moved lower.

Bear moaned loudly into Hank’s bicep as fingers circled around his hole and gradually cloyed their way inside of him. He shifted beside Hank, ebbing and flowing against him like the tide as Hank made him open. His moaning became muffled cries as his face buried into firm muscle.

Unable to filter himself, Hank leaned over him as his fingers enthusiastically worked their magic and he whispered into Bear’s ear, “I wanna hear you, baby. I love how you moan for me.”

He turned to face Hank, cheeks flushed an endearingly rosy color, and sloppily kissed him in his haste. Slippery, hot tongues eagerly explored with abandon as Hank curled his arm to support Bear’s head. They could both feel each-others heat despite the January weather making the room feel chilled and the clash of hot and cold only made them feel more invigorated. 

Bear openly moaned into Hank’s mouth in between the moments their lips parted. His hand pulled the back of his knee up until he was split wide open for Hank’s hand while his other hand lazily tugged at his own cock. 

Hank withdrew his fingers after several minutes, smirking as Bear whimpered at their absence, and he repositioned his cock until it lined up. He took Bear’s leg from him, interlocking his elbow with the knee, and he pushed himself inside at a cautious pace. 

He bit his bottom lip as Bear stretched around the head of cock so tightly he could tell he was barely going to fit inside at his fullest. Hank patiently listened and watched Bear, moving his hips back and forth with gentle care until he felt like he wouldn’t hurt his lover. 

At first, there was a sharp sting as Hank entered him, and Bear felt a tear roll down his cheek until it hit Hank’s hand, but the pain began to slowly morph into exquisite pleasure. Bear folded his arm around Hank’s neck and propped himself up on the elbow of his other arm. He leaned his sweltering forehead clumsily against Hank’s jaw as his breath hitched in his throat with each inch of Hank’s cock. 

Hank groaned openly as he began to feel himself slide with ease against the constricting walls surrounding his cock. He left several quick, encouraging kisses all over Bear’s face as he tested his entire length until he was buried to the base. 

The sounds Bear was making now were perfectly saccharine to Hank’s ears. His eyes screwed shut as he became enveloped in the sonorous, from the heart cries and the sticky warmth around his cock. 

Expletives cascaded out of him and his grip tightened as the pleasure eclipsed everything else around them. The intense angles Bear seemed capable of bending to were enough alone to drive Hank mad with desire. His words failed him, and when he wanted to pour his heart out to Bear and spoil him with a shower of compliments, all he could muster was his name. 

Hank rolled and flattened Bear onto his stomach before he raised his hips up enough to meet him. He leaned forward, giving some affection to the scars on Bear’s back. They had never healed quite right, but Hank thought they were oddly beautiful in their own way. The strength it took to pull through and survive was written there as a permanent testament to Bear’s strong will. 

His fingertips gently traced an aimless path over each shoulder blade until they trailed down the spine, briefly mapping the length and the freckles dotted around it. Hank’s hand stopped as he noticed the dimples on Bear’s lower back with a smile. He gripped his hands around Bear’s hips and was pleased to discover his thumbs reached the divots perfectly.

Bear was completely enamoured by the tender touch and learned something new about himself. No one had ever touched him like this before. He felt his chest flutter every time Hank put his hands on him in place of the normal hesitant feeling he’d had with others before. It was sublime.

He sat up to show Hank just how much he loved him the only way he knew how. Bear reached behind himself, taking Hank’s cock in his hand, and he guided him back inside. He balanced his weight on his knees, sinking lower into the bed with Hank. 

With a staggered staccato, Bear pumped his hips back and forth and folded his hands flat against the back of Hank’s neck to counter-weight his movements. 

A groan rose from Hank’s chest and into Bear’s shoulder while his hands hovered in a momentary state of inaction. He was overwhelmed by the wave of mind-numbing pleasure that crashed into him as the angle Bear fucked him at was pure ecstasy.

Hank’s hands moved when he finally regained composure, using one hand to meander around Bear’s chest and the other to stroke the length of Bear’s cock. His fingers worked hard to make Bear feel as good as physically possible, earning more than a few elongated moans as he put more weight behind the thrust of his hips to match Bear’s pace. 

Bear let go of Hank’s neck as he collapsed forward to bury his escalating open-mouthed moans in a pillow. His back stretched and bent at an angle that made Hank’s eyes roll back. Hank blinked away the light-headed feeling and bit his lip again as he watched how Bear’s ass bounced against him just right. 

Distractedly, Hank tested his boundaries with a gentle slap on one cheek and he felt his cock twitch as Bear let out a delighted sound of surprise. He tried again, harder this time, and kept up the pattern until Bear’s ass had visible pink handprints. 

“Hank…” His name escaped from Bear’s throat, long and drawn out and full of gratification. 

Hank leaned forward on his hands, pressing Bear into the bed with his full weight, and he bucked his hips with one goal in mind. 

Beneath him, Bear clawed at the sheets as his moan became trapped in his throat. Their eyes screwed shut as they both felt the bright burst of climax getting closer. Both could feel the tight pressure in their balls as the squeaking frame of the bunk and the sound of skin hitting skin drowned out the song on the radio. 

Hank’s arms crumpled as he made the final strokes, feeling Bear clench tightly around his cock as they met a shuddering, full bodied end. He rolled off limply, his limbs vibrating with excess energy, and he pulled his throbbing cock out with a low growl as the tight walls made the extra sensitive flesh there feel electrified. Hank felt like he had been reduced to a sticky, sweaty pile of flesh, but was satisfied nonetheless. 

Bear remained on his stomach in a briefly catatonic state of bliss as they both caught their breath. He hummed pleasantly at the dull ache Hank had given him. 

“Still with me, baby?” Hank sucked in air but he was still left out of breath. It had been a while for him. 

“Still here,” Bear mumbled contentedly into the mattress with a warm smile. This had to be the first time he could honestly say someone ‘made-love’ to him, and now he had a taste for it. 

“C’mere, I wanna hold you,” Hank groggily forced his tired muscles to lay on his side and he flopped one arm over Bear. 

Bear scooted until the space between them closed and he closed his eyes. He wanted to say three simple words, but try as he might it remained tied to his tongue. At some point, he would have to confess, not only how he felt but also the parts of his past he'd tried so hard to keep hidden.


	14. Expose

February 5th 2083

The cruel Appalachian winter persisted and painful scars left from the Christmas Flood began to gradually heal as time passed. The greater area of the city of Charleston had become nothing more than a treacherous and ruined landscape. The grim reminder of what had occurred, but life had a way of persevering and carrying on regardless. 

As the heavy snowfall prevented them from retrieving many of the bodies still resting in the rubble until the ground thawed, the Responders took their first steps towards recovery as most of their forces moved headquarters to Morgantown. 

Captain Melody Larkin and her Fire Breathers remained, becoming the sole guardians of an area of Appalachia that had recently become known as the ‘Ash Heap’ for the still burning coal mines that billowed with black smoke, spanning from Charleston to the Big Bend Tunnel. 

Her plans for the region took root the moment those scumbag ‘Top of the World’ assholes killed the envoy sent by the Responders to aid them, and after the dam was sabotaged by their leader, David Thorpe, her determination was only emboldened. This wasn’t about revenge anymore, this was just the consequence of their own actions and Melody intended to wipe them off the map like the trash they were. 

She re-opened volunteer recruitment to the public, concocting a new syllabus for Hank and a freshly promoted Bear to follow that would improve upon last year’s mistakes. This time she wanted real, hands-on learning to happen and prepare the new Fire Breathers for the harsh world they would face. 

The only hurdle to reaching her goal was keeping those two knuckleheads focused long enough to train the newcomers. Bear, especially, would be a handful for her when he inevitably caused some sort of chaos, but she still trusted him. 

\---

“Fight like a hillbilly y’all!” Bear hollered at the top of his lungs as he dodged a meaty fist and climbed onto the bar counter. He peeled off his shirt and threw it into the crowd of brawling bar-goers before he finished off a half-full bottle of whiskey in one chug. 

He sent the glass careening towards the big guy that was trying to grab at him and it shattered on impact. The sound of tables and chairs snapping, more glass exploding, overshadowed the radio as a Beach Boys song played. 

“Get some, asshole!” He dove off of the counter and drove his elbow down on the man’s back, ineffectually bouncing off of him and sending him reeling backwards until his jaw connected with a second fighter’s fist. 

“Bear!” Hank ducked just in time as a bottle whizzed past his face, “What the hell did you do this time?”

“This time?!” Bear roared indignantly over the ruckus, spitting blood on the ground as he got back to his feet and unsteadily sunk into a fighting stance. “I didn’t do shit! They started it-WOAH!”

He yelped loudly as the larger man grabbed him by an arm and the back of his pants and swung him around until he flung Bear clear across the room and into a set of chairs and a table. The wood furniture seemed to crumble under the force of his landing. 

Bear groaned in pain as he quickly collected his new surroundings and he barely managed to roll out of the way before the second man could kick his head. 

Hank tried to wade through the fracas, narrowly avoiding getting caught by the dozen or so other fights happening in the cramped space. It well and truly looked like a classic saloon brawl had somehow broken out in the few seconds he’d been in the bathroom. 

This shady, ‘hole-in-the-wall’ bar was fairly infamous for fights breaking out, being smack dab between Responder and Raider territory, but Hank hadn’t expected it to get this out of hand when he came here to share a drink with his favorite person. 

Bear hopped to his feet again and, getting ready to swing, he almost looked too confident in his own abilities. His right fist connected with the big guy’s jaw, but it left him wide open and he took a brutal punch to his nose with a loud cracking sound. A fine mist of sweat, blood, and spittal sprouted from his face as the force of the blow made him stumble. 

He caught himself on the back of a chair and without losing a beat he picked it up to retaliate. 

The man flinched when the chair crashed into him, splintering into several pieces as it did, and he toppled over. 

“Who’s next?” Bear’s steadily bleeding and broken nose dripped onto his bare chest as he became cornered. He put his fists up defiantly, ready to take on the entire world if he had to. 

“Shoulda stayed where you belonged, you little shitstain,” Another man lunged at Bear, brandishing a knife, and Hank barreled into him at just the right time. 

His fist made the man’s skull crack hard on the floor and he let the limp man lay where Hank had put him as he kicked the knife away, “You fuck with him, you’re fuckin’ with me too!”

Hank’s stature was enough to make a handful of them pause, but as the big guy roused again the two giants began sizing each other up. 

“This ain’t got anything to do with you,” He said groggily, gesturing for Hank to step aside, “We just want that dickhead behind you.”

“I’m flattered,” Bear briefly leaned his weight on a chair, feeling the adrenaline take its toll as his sore muscles protested all the abuse, “But I’m bespoke. Ain’t nobody gets to toss me around like that, ‘cept Hank here.”

Bear unexpectedly lunged at the man, eagerly fighting like a territorial bobcat as he tackled the big guy and used his own weight against him. They went down to the ground, Bear’s fists beat the man around the head and ears while the big guy was still trying to understand what was happening.

The others descended upon Hank, trying and failing to take him out. 

Hank flung them away easily enough, using his size and combat training as an advantage until he could reach Bear again. He saw the large man now holding him in a neck breaking choke hold. Bear’s face reddened with strain as he tried to gasp for air while his legs uselessly kicked in an attempt to break free. 

“Off him,” Hank roared angrily, harshly kicking the man in the head with his heavy boots. He grabbed Bear and hauled him up by the shoulders, anger transforming into worry as Bear coughed and sputtered. “I should kill every last one of you fuckers for this.”

“I just might,” Bear charged head-on into the fray once again, whooping excitedly when he managed to land a decent punch on one of them, “Yea! That’s how the Responders do it, motherfuckers!”

The force of the next hit he took to his jaw was a clean knockout and it sent him spinning in place before he dropped like dead weight on the ground. Hank watched in dismay as it all happened, too quickly for him to prevent it, and he dove to protect Bear. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Hank turned heel and booked it out of the bar, trying to keep his lover safe from the clearly vengeful attackers and, frankly, his own lack of self preservation. Luck was on his side as he swiftly passed by Morgantown Police Responders who had finally arrived to break up the fracas, and he was allowed to carry Bear to ‘Old Blue’ when they were both recognized.

With one arm wrapped around Bear’s middle, hauling him over his shoulder like a ruck-sack, he opened the tailgate and set Bear down gently. 

Bear’s eyes were half-open, showing only the whites of his eyes as he was still reviving from the knockout, and he limply responded to Hank’s worried voice by giving a half-hearted thumbs up. Now that there was room to breath, Hank could finally see that his nose was definitely broken. 

“Jesus, Bear,” Hank sighed beleagurly, checking for other wounds before he got started patching him up, “We gotta find you better ways to work out those anger issues.”

Bear started to rouse as Hank’s fingertips gingerly touched the various bruises and welts from the fight, checking for bone fractures in his face. His fingers moved to inspect Bear’s teeth, tugging his lip down and seeing that they were stained with blood, but otherwise intact. Bear gave him a wyly, drunken smirk. 

“I ain’t got anger issues,” He slurred, clearly more inebriated than in pain, but Hank knew he’d feel it in the morning. “Those assholes don’t know shit about me.”

He gave Bear an exasperated look, but he kept his well-informed rebuttal to himself. Hank knew it was difficult for Bear to be vulnerable enough to admit that he had problems and used humor to deflect. His stubborn and fiery lover that only ever lied when it was about himself. 

“Which reminds me,” Hank saw him shiver as the frigid, February night air touched his bare skin and he took off his own fleece lined leather jacket to wrap around Bear’s shoulders before he continued. 

“What did they say that got you so worked up?” Resetting and putting a plaster on his nose was, blessedly, easy enough and Hank knew he’d recover just fine now. Bear winced and hissed through his teeth as Hank pushed it back into place, and he let his shoulders relax after the pain subsided into a dull throb. 

“Said us Rogers are nothin’ but trash and I shoulda stayed in prison,” Bear allowed his greatest secrets to slip, feeling now was as good of a time as any. He couldn’t keep running from himself, not when he wanted to be close with Hank, “Lot’s of other colorful words I won’t repeat...but I don’t much like how people talk about my family. They can talk shit about me all they want, but not my kin.”

“You were in prison?” Hank blinked rapidly, completely taken aback by the laid-back way Bear had revealed this fact. His brain felt like it was doing backflips trying to process the information and became overloaded with questions. 

Hank searched his memory as the name ‘Rogers’ seemed to ring a few, distant bells, but he had to reach far back to before the war before anything came to mind, “Wait...Rogers? As in...Dane Rogers?”

Bear was still completely candid with him, too deep in his cups to really censor himself anymore on top of feeling the irresistible urge to finally confess to someone after hiding for years. 

It didn’t help that Hank made him feel like opening up, like the personification of a truth serum. “Yea, he’s my oldest brother, started a little gang about...I dunno, years ago and he went and got some people pissed off.”

The Sons of Dane, a group of hardcore survivalists, had managed to ‘secede’ from the USSA about a year before the bombs dropped, and Hank remembered reading news articles about the fuss they had caused. Wholly separate even from the Free States, who had also seceded, the Sons of Dane were even more gun-crazy and isolationist and much less civil. 

Hank stared at Bear blankly, the fact that he came from a rather notorious family being enough of a twist by itself, but on top of that, the revelation that Bear was a felon all along was enough to momentarily blow his mind. Bear was a trouble-maker, no doubt, but not nearly as serious as Dane and his ‘gang’ were. 

Bear reached into his jean pocket, letting Hank’s jacket fall open and droop on his shoulders as he reached for his pack of cigarettes. He calmly lit a cigarette and turned his eyes to the ground as the shame consumed him and he spoke in a shaky, fearful voice, “So...what do ya think? Do you...hate me now?”

“What?!” Hank’s tone of voice had more volume and incredulity than he originally intended, but he didn’t correct himself as he looked at Bear with furrowed brows. “Why would you ask that?”

“Youngest person in West Virginia to be convicted to life in prison and one the biggest liars in Appalachia, sitting here talkin’ to you,” Bear could feel Hank’s eyes drilling into him and it was more painful than his sore, broken nose. He tried not to flinch as Hank sat next to him.

“There’s nothin’ in the world that will ever make me hate you, Bear,” Hank wrapped his arm around Bear’s shoulders, rubbing comforting patterns with his thumb through the jacket, “I don’t know who you were back then, but this man sitting right next to me is one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“We gotta get you some glasses, old man, you’re clearly not seein’ straight,” He shook his head in disbelief, but Bear was mostly surprised in himself. The moment that he’d feared for months had passed without incident. Hank didn’t reject him. 

“Listen, whatever you done in your past, I know you’re not the same person now,” Hank gently cupped Bear’s chin and steered him to meet his eyes, “I saw you overcome chem addiction, and the pure strength that took. Watched you selflessly protect others who needed it without batting an eye. You worked so hard when the flood happened that sometimes you’d just pass out in a chair still covered in mud. You’re a good person, Bear.”

Bear’s brilliant green eyes filled with tears as he listened to Hank’s words and his chin trembled slightly. He felt a lump grow in his throat that made his voice croak as he whimpered softly, “I...I think I’m in love with you, Hank.”

He felt himself completely crumble as his whispered words were still loud enough to destroy his composure. Bear had spoken with his heart on full display, openly giving it to Hank. He thought of past flames and how much he believed that was ‘love’, and how hollow that felt now because his feelings for Hank greatly overshadowed anything he’d ever experienced. 

Hank gazed at him with a difficult to read expression, so taken aback by the multiple confessions that he didn’t immediately know just how to show Bear how much it meant to him that he was opening up like this. 

“Well...I’ve definitely fallen in love with you,” He started, but it didn’t feel nearly adequate enough. Hank shook his head and started over, “I mean, I really fucking love you. So much that ...I don’t think any words even come close to the way I feel when I’m around you.”

He caught Bear’s tears with his fingers, gently wiping them away before smoothing his hand over Bear’s soft, copper hair. 

Bear’s face contorted, simultaneously scared and hopeful, and he averted his eyes as he became overwhelmed. He tried to clear the nervous lump in his throat before he mumbled, “I uh...I’ve never...felt like this before.”

“C’mere,” Hank pulled him into his arms, letting him cling to him like a man lost at sea would cling to driftwood, “You know... I’ve never really had a serious relationship, either. Never made the time or effort. Maybe we can both learn something new, huh?”

Bear leaned his head back until their lips met, the kiss starting off soft and hesitant, but Hank deepened it by moving his hand to the back of Bear’s head. Just as Bear started taking it a step further, his nose made a subtle pop and Hank pulled back with a worried look. 

“Shit, I forgot,” Bear winced, his hand automatically raising to the fresh nosebleed that started dripping down his chin. 

“C’mon, let's get back to the station and fix you up,” Hank handed him a patterned, blue bandana from his back pocket and helped him into the passenger side of ‘Blue’. 

\---

Bear hobbled to the shower room, kicking off his boots and letting the buckle of his belt fall open. He took a look at the shiner blooming on his eye in the mirror, inspecting the damage for himself. The blood that had dripped onto his chest had dried, and he wet a rag under the sink faucet to clean it off.

Hank returned to be with him after fetching some cold beers, knowing without having to ask that Bear would need the buzz to take the edge off. 

“You gotta show me some of those moves you used,” Bear accepted the cold drink and he tipped the nozzle back to chug half of it before he set it down. “You were a machine.”

“It takes discipline,” Hank chuckled low in his chest as he came to stand behind Bear, easily touching his chin to the top of his lover’s head, “Also helps that I got height and weight.”

“Callin’ me short?” Bear pretended to be offended, but he quickly dropped the act and he shrugged amicably, “I am.”

“I could show you some techniques that weren’t covered in Fire Breather training later,” The wide-span of Hank’s hands caressed Bear’s back until they came to a stop on his shoulders where his expert fingers found knots in the muscle and worked them out.

Ever since they had started dating, it had become a routine for Hank to help him manage the pain from his back injury. He was trusted to hang onto the pain meds so Bear didn’t slip into addiction again, and at night he’d rub the aches away. 

Bear groaned low in his throat to show his approval, closing his eyes as the massage worked wonders for him. No one had ever touched him so nicely, and for someone who looked like a bruiser, Hank was incredibly gentle.

“Why not now? Worried I’ll break another bone?” He unconsciously bent over the sink and pressed into Hank as he really got into the relaxing act. 

Hank bit his lip to restrain an urge, knowing he shouldn’t rail Bear here and now, but the tempting thought crossed his mind regardless as he watched the muscles in Bear’s back flex when he stretched. “A walking safety hazard like you? I know you’ll break another bone.”

While his eyes were closed, Bear could feel Hank harden against him and a devious smirk effortlessly stretched his lips. “You could teach me right now, I bet I could use some of that ‘discipline’.”

“Don’t get me started,” Hank’s grip moved down until he could take Bear’s hips in each hand, settling his thumbs into the dimples on his lower back, “Still a little mad at you for startin’ a fight, being cute ain’t gonna work on me this time.”

Of course, he was lying on both points. Hank wasn’t actually mad at Bear, and being cute definitely worked on him. Every single time. 

“I’ve been bad, Sergeant Madigan. You should gimme a good dressin’ down,” Bear knew exactly what he was doing as he grinded into Hank, earning a low hum as he spurred him. 

“You must have gotten hit in the head real hard, pretty little thing,” Hank’s hand shifted to Bear’s ass and rubbed the sweet spot through the jeans, speaking with a low tone of voice that made Bear’s knees weak, “I don’t think you can handle the way I punish bad soldiers like you.”

“I can take it, sir,” Bear felt his heart begin to race as Hank guided him to stand upright and gently clasped his hand over Bear’s throat while he pressed his lips close to his ear. 

“Give me your belt, get undressed, and go wait for me in the shower, soldier,” Hank smirked deviously as he watched the shiver his voice earned. He held out his hand, palm up, as Bear eagerly tore his belt out of the loops and handed it over. 

The strain it took to watch Bear undress with enthusiasm took its pound of flesh from Hank. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him the good ol’ fashioned way, but he was more curious to see where this would lead.

Bear turned on the shower as he picked a stall and closed the curtain, quickly scrubbing himself clean and letting the warm water run pleasantly over his sore face. He anticipated Hank, listening closely as he heard the shift of clothing hitting the floor, the radio turn up, the door lock, and the other showers turn on. 

“Hands on the wall,” Hank entered the stall naked and held the belt in one hand, folded in half. He tapped the flat side on Bear’s rear to give him an idea of what was about to happen. 

Bear’s eyes seemed to spark with arousal as he glanced down to see the belt and he eagerly turned around. He closed his eyes and flinched in anticipation as Hank placed his free hand on his hip.

They both chuckled at the momentary surprise his touch gave Bear, and Hank rubbed appreciative circles into his skin with his thumb, silently letting Bear know he wouldn’t take it too far.

He inhaled sharply as the first lash made him feel an intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure. Hank was firm, but not enough to harm him.

“You like this, don’t you?” He lifted the belt up and brought it back down on Bear’s ass repeatedly, the satisfying sound of the strike followed by Bear’s soft moans making Hank throb.

“Yessir,” In no time at all, Bear found himself practically shaking from how aroused getting spanked made him. His hands slipped on the damp surface of the tile wall in front of him and he pressed his forehead to it for extra purchase as he felt himself losing his grip. 

Hank moved closer, dragging his hand up Bear’s side, over his bicep and forearm, until his fingers intertwined with Bear’s. He smiled fondly as Bear squeezed his hand each time the belt landed, and his hungry gaze moved back and forth between the reddened flesh on Bear’s backside to the enjoyment Bear openly displayed.

“I like the sounds you’re making, boy,” Hank leaned to whisper in Bear’s ear, getting a satisfactory rise out of Bear as he watched him quiver. “Turn around, lemme see how much you like it.”

Bear obeyed, struggling to keep his hands to himself as Hank pretended to ‘examine’ his painfully stiff cock, using the belt to softly rub the base. Hank smirked at him, pointedly dragging his eyes up and down his body. “Look at that, got you so hard you’re leaking.” 

“Goddamn...Hank, I want you to pin me to the wall and just fuck me right now,” Bear’s hot, heavy breathing made his chest rise and fall as Hank continued to tease his cock with the belt.

Hank effortlessly pushed Bear into the wall with his free hand with perfectly measured roughness, earning him a heart-achingly soft moan. He tangled his fingers in Bear’s wet hair, gently tugging his head back, “I give the orders here, not you. If you want that, you’re gonna have to beg for it.”

A delightful shiver ran along Bear’s spine and he smirked as he let the words roll over his tongue, “Yessir. Please fuck me. I’ll do whatever you want. Sir.”

Hank hung the belt onto a nearby hook and he pressed their wet bodies together.

Mindful of Bear’s nose, Hank kissed him deeply as his hand stroked Bear’s cock frustratingly slow. Bear enthusiastically returned the favor, languidly moving his palm over the shaft of Hank’s cock and letting their tips slide together. He wrapped one tattooed arm around Hank’s neck to drag his fingers over the close cut, tight-curls of hair on his head lovingly.

Hank groaned low, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as he watched their slippery cocks rub together. He moved his unoccupied hand behind Bear, finding that sweet spot and gently inserting one finger to make Bear open for him. 

Bear’s head lolled onto Hank’s shoulder, bright, burning pleasure making him quake under Hank’s white-hot touch as he added another digit and buried the two fingers as far as they could go. He clutched tightly to Hank, leaving a trail of appreciative kisses on his collar bone. 

“That’s a good soldier,” Hank worked his wrist to pump his fingers in and out, “Who’s in charge?”

“You are, sir,” Bear bit his lip as he tried not to make a noise that would wake everyone up. 

“Goddamn, Bear,” Hank dropped character, finding it too difficult to maintain when he was this aroused, “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

He lifted Bear up with ease, guiding his thighs to wrap around his waist, and Hank used his strength to hold Bear against the wall with one hand as the other guided him inside the tight-walled warmth. 

An elongated, strangled groan pushed past Bear’s clenched teeth as the sudden sting of being stretched over Hank’s cock shot through him before it faded and started to become a pleasurable throb. He automatically leaned back and gripped the railing on the wall behind him, shaking as Hank patiently allowed him time to adjust. 

“You got no business making me feel this fuckin’ good, Hank,” Bear’s voice trembled as Hank started pushing and pulling his hips at a steady stride. He wasn’t sure he was going to last much longer at this rate, feeling impossibly close to the edge, “Fuck...it’s better than any high.”

“You’re not alone, baby. I can’t get enough of you,” He groaned as Bear’s vice-like grip on his cock urged him to go harder and faster. Hank held his ass tightly, leaving fingerprint marks on Bear’s easily bruisable skin. 

He was quick to catch Bear when his shaky arms gave out under him, pulling him up to press their chests together. Hank continued without missing a beat, burying his face in Bear’s hair as he drove them headlong into climax. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna...ah-,” Bear’s moans caught in his throat as it hit him full force, making him fall limp in Hank’s arms as he followed shortly after. Hank maintained his hold on Bear, despite how unsteady his balance was, and he carefully carried Bear to the bench and set them down, keeping his lover close to sit on his lap.

Bear moved his face closer to Hanks and their lips met contentedly, careful to avoid letting his broken nose touch anything. His swollen, black eye was just beginning to really show now. 

“I probably should’ve been more gentle,” Hank apologized and left a feather soft kiss on his eye. 

Bear loudly disagreed, making an exaggerated ‘uh-uh’ noise in his mouth as his lips curled, “Takes more than that before I throw in the towel, babe. I’m watchu call...a sucker for pain.”

“Masochist, more likely,” Hank jokingly corrected him as his hands ran up and down Bear’s thighs affectionately.

“I really needed this,” Bear twisted his torso to reach his unfinished beer and his pack of smokes. He lit one and shared it with Hank, relaxing comfortably as he sipped the refreshingly cold drink that cooled down his overheated body. “Melody is gonna kill us when she finds out how often we screw in the station.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hank directed his exhale of smoke to the side and he smirked wickedly as a crude thought came to mind, “We should do it in one of the fire engines next. I been wanting you to strip-tease out of fire-fighting gear and slide down me like I’m the pole ever since I saw you in full uniform.”


	15. Trouble

February 11th 2083

“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Melody angrily paced around the office, wildly flailing her hands. She had gotten a call that morning about the incident at the bar, but worse news had come out of it than Bear just roughing up some drunk assholes, “Do you have any idea what I had to do to get the chief of Morgantown police to stop breathing down my neck about a ‘felon in my midst’?!”

Bear had inwardly recoiled the moment the meeting had started, and silently allowed her to get her point across. He glanced at Hank, seeking comfort and he smiled softly when his lover nodded at him reassuringly. 

“What kind of fucking nonsense is that, anyway?!” She sputtered, trying to sort out her growing temper, “Sent me a damn file on you, apparently some chucklehead at the bar brought out your dirty laundry, and now Bill is suggesting that you need to be locked up.” 

Melody finally turned her curmudgeonly ire on Bear, “And you! For someone who ain’t afraid to do what needs to be done, why am I finding out about this now? You better have a damn good reason for not trusting me!”

“I...” Bear stammered. He felt like a small child getting yelled at by his mother. “Some of us managed to rip off the bomb collars when they malfunctioned and bolt, but we started getting rounded up after...just thought y’all would turn me in.”

“Bomb collars? Report didn’t mention that,” Melody trailed off, mulling over that detail and adding it to the picture of Bear she had fretted over upon seeing his mugshot, a boy just barely old enough to be considered a teenager, beaten bloody and crying as he looked at the camera, “Doesn’t matter. I read the charges, and it smells like utter horse shit to me.”

“I did do some of it,” Bear admitted, trying his best to keep the record straight. It made him relax, however, knowing that Melody seemed to be taking his side. She’d be the second person to do that, Hank having been the first. 

“I read them too,” Hank threw in his hat to defend him, the image of Bear in a collar and being mistreated making him sick to his stomach. “I think he’s more than proven his worth, Melody. We can’t let them lock Bear up.”

“I whole-heartedly agree,” She sighed, settling into a chair while she massaged the growing headache forming in her temples, “This is gonna be a pain in the ass for us, though. As you well know, they’ve gotten a little touchy since the protests started up in Morgantown...fuckin’ assholes.” 

“World’s over, we have to focus on re-building and we just saw Charleston wiped off the map,” Hank was just stating the obvious as he leaned his elbows on his knees, “Can’t they just stop being pricks for one goddamn second?”

Bear glanced in between them when an idea sparked in his mind. His past, for once, might actually have some usefulness. “I could...talk to the college kids. Used to deal for them before I met Hank. I got a lot of favors to cash in.”

He cleared his throat nervously as the two dominant personalities turned on him with surprised looks that could peel paint. 

“I’m just gonna ignore the part you said about dealing and ask, what in the goddamn are you implying, Bear?” Melody folded her hands into a steeple and pointed them down, shaking her head at her surrogate son. 

“I could...broker a peace deal between the ‘houses’?” Bear looked to Hank as he questioned himself, but he smiled when he saw the idea was met with approval. 

“That...might actually work,” Hank mulled it over for a moment while Melody wore a skeptical look at the two of them, “If Bear is the one to talk them down, the cops are pinned. Can’t arrest a local hero, especially nowadays.”

“Tryin’ to go behind their back will only make them wanna snag you even more, because it seems they want those kids to fight ‘em but,” Melody scratched her cheek in thought, looking off to the side as the cogs turned, “Us founders are getting sick of them causing trouble, though. Can’t remember the last time we met where we didn’t have to shuffle complaints about these dickheads.”

She exhaled, making her final decision, “It’s risky, and I don’t think I’ll be able to cover your ass if you get caught, but if you’re confident you can get it done...I trust you Bear.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bear stood, letting Hank put his arm around his waist lovingly, “I won’t let you down.”

“Again, you mean?” She snorted sardonically, “Listen, while we’re here, I know y’all have been humping like rabbits all over the station. In the showers, the trucks, even in the gym. Just...promise me you’ll think with the right heads on this, okay lovebirds?”

Hank and Bear simultaneously flushed hot with embarrassment, giving each other sidelong glances, before they nodded in the affirmative to their commanding officer and scurried from the room.


	16. Drunk

February 13th 2083

Two days later, Hank and Bear were back in Morgantown, but this time they were trying not to make their presence so obvious like the night in the bar. After arranging everything and letting a very select few know what her boys were up to, Melody sent them off with high hopes.

“How is this subtle?” Hank looked at himself in the mirror, checking the seams of the pressed tuxedo for creases as he subconsciously fretted over the details. He wanted to look his best for Bear. 

“The speak-easy has a dress code, babe,” Bear stepped out of the hotel’s bathroom and presented himself, stunning Hank where he stood with his appearance alone. 

His outfit suited him almost too well, the fine-fitting tuxedo shaping to his handsome features in a way that made Hank almost instantly hallucinate that today was their wedding day. Even the plaster on his nose and the purple bruises on his face gave him an air of mystery that said ‘rough n’ tumble bad boy’. 

Hank came back down to reality from the distracting day-dream, finding his mouth agape as he ogled his boyfriend a bit too obviously. “Well...at least you don’t look like an undercover cop.”

“Hank, baby, relax,” Bear stepped behind him and massaged his shoulders, “You are a sex-god in human form, I’m gonna be fighting off people tryin’ to take you from me with a baseball bat.”

“You always know what to say to get my ego going,” Hank smiled effortlessly, leaning on the counter as Bear’s fingers hit spots he hadn’t realized were sore. “You’re definitely getting some lovin’ tonight, wildfire. That suit really does it for me.”

Bear’s hands drifted down his back and around to his chest, his fingers shifting under the front of Hank’s pants to toy with him, “Bet you’d like it even more on the floor.”

For him, seeing Hank dressed like this made him feel wild. It complimented his golden, umber skin and those amazing eyes that shifted in the light. He just wanted to forgo the mission altogether and get frisky. 

“Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you horny?” Hank had to close his eyes in an effort to reign himself in. They were already ‘fashionably late’, and if they got started now they might just miss the party entirely. 

“With you? Horny. Always,” Bear smirked devilishly as Hank responded by turning around and pinning him to the wall in one swift movement. He gasped, eyes fluttering from the pleasant sensation as Hank groped his erection. 

Hank exhaled hotly as he watched Bear eagerly push his hips forward, practically begging to be touched. “How am I supposed to do my job when you get me all worked like this?”

Bear got a wicked grin, and Hank knew exactly what he was going to do. He bit his lip as Bear kissed his neck, parted, and sauntered away like the wonderful tease he was. “I guess we’ll never know. We should get to that party, though, shame we can’t fuck eachother senseless right now.” 

“You’re bad,” Hank shook his head, but he secretly loved the idea of having to wait for it. It made the tension build for him and he imagined when he finally got to exact his payback it would be glorious, “You know, you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Cause all the blood has left your skull?” Bear stopped at the door to the hotel room and started fishing for something in his duffle bag. 

“More like I’m gonna be too distracted and get smoked by one of the dozens of things that can kill me out here,” He watched Bear with an absent-minded fascination, the scene being one of those random moments that would forever be implanted in his memories. 

Bear glanced at him as he was wrist deep in his things and he smiled fondly once he noticed the look Hank was giving him. He produced a black silk strip of fabric and tilted his head to the side appealingly, “I won’t let that happen.”

Hank inspected the object, quirking his brows into a quizzical expression, “Gonna tie me up with that? I thought that was my job.”

“It’s a blindfold, lughead,” Bear stretched out on the tips of his toes and barely managed to reach around Hank’s head as he tied it on, “I told ya’, had to work out a deal to bring you along. They don’t want you knowin’ the location of their secret base.”

“I have to stay close, every time we’re apart somethin’ bad seems to happen,” His obvious and growing separation anxiety wasn’t new to him, and he was working on it, but it was hard to manage when his nightmares had recently returned.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Bear settled his forehead on Hank’s mouth, closing his eyes. He had noticed Hank’s anxieties getting gradually worse as the night’s where Hank woke in a cold sweat increased. If he had anything to say about it, he planned on sticking by his side no matter what. “Can’t get rid of me cause there ain’t no return receipt. You’re stuck with me, sunshine.”

Hank chuckled, feeling much better already and he pressed his lips to Bear’s face, kissing him all over. “It’s settled then. We’re joined at the hip, now let’s get this freak show on the road, huh?”

\---

Arriving at the spot after a short, disorienting drive, Hank let Bear lead him by the hands. He relied on his hearing to try and guess where they were, but it didn’t tell him much. The scuff of dress shoes on concrete, and a heavy metal door swinging open as they passed through into a room with hardwood flooring implied they were still in the city. 

The door closed and Hank’s ear pricked as they picked up the distant sound of jazz music, maybe coming from a radio somewhere, but he was confused when it got louder as another door was opened. 

“Stairs are steep,” Bear warned him, placing his hands on the rails before he let Hank go first to close the door behind them. 

Hank reached the landing after a moment, hoping he had performed gracefully as he could hear people chattering and laughing close by. 

When Bear removed the blindfold, Hank was flabbergasted. He knew some of these VTU kids came from old money, but he hadn’t expected to see how luxurious everything was. It was like he had gone back in time to when he spent a vacation in Vegas, standing in one of those swanky casinos. 

He could remember getting wasted with some strangers and dancing in the fountain before security kicked them out. 

Every inch of the space was classy. Red velvet curtains and gold embellishments. The smokey air was lit by stained glass fixtures that kept the space in a semi-darkness that glittered as light bounced off of expensive baubles and sequin dresses. 

“Hank, meet Baxter, leader of the ‘Roof House’, Baxter, this is my beau, Sergeant Hank Madigan,” Bear introduced him to a young man dressed head to toe in a light blue three piece suit. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” He spoke in a fake, over the top snooty voice and dropped the act promptly after, “So, like, don’t mean to drop this on you, Bear, but Henry heard you were comin’ and this dude got all sorts of angry about it. I told him to chill, but you know him.”

Hank looked at the mixture of embarrassment and exasperation on his lover’s face and he narrowed his eyes when Bear replied, almost too casually detached, “He’s still not over it, huh?”

“Who’s Henry?” Hank tried and failed to disguise the hint of jealousy in his voice.

Baxter put up his hands, disengaging from the conversation at the drop of a hat and sliding away into the crowd. 

“Just someone I used to sleep with, only casual stuff,” Bear didn’t mind Hank getting jealous, he actually enjoyed it when he was unconsciously possessive. What really bothered him was that he had completely forgotten the mayor’s son even existed, and if he were to show up he knew he would cause a scene. 

“No lingering feelings there?” Hank was hesitant to be so forward, but he had to know. 

Bear laughed, shaking his head at Hank’s question, “Do I really gotta say it? You don’t have to worry, babe. I only got eyes for you.”

Slightly reassured, Hank let it go and turned his attention to the crowd, spotting the bar just behind them, “Alright, well, I suppose we gotta mingle before we bring up the treaty. It’s only polite.”

“Oh, before I dive in,” Bear gestured for him to come closer as though he was going to share a secret. Hank leaned in and gave him his ear as he whispered, “Don’t drink the blue stuff.” 

He kissed Hank before blending in with the party-goers to catch up with old aqquantances. 

Hank stood in place for a moment, pondering the odd warning as he waited for a good time to approach the bar without making himself look too eager. He felt eyes on him, and it made him uncommonly shy about being surrounded by so many strangers. 

Feeling out of place despite the friendly atmosphere, Hank took a seat at the bar, choosing the most secluded spot and he ordered a beer. 

He scanned the crowd, trying to spot Bear in the medley while also secretly wondering if this ‘Henry’ would make an appearance. His gaze caught a glimpse of familiar red hair, illuminated like fire by a light that he stood under, and Hank smiled effortlessly. It was clear by the way Bear gestured he was filling people in on the last few months, and the animated look in his expression was one of Hank’s favorite things about him. 

Bear glanced, locking eyes with him, and he smirked broadly as his gold tooth glinted. He pointed at Hank and said something to the others that he couldn’t make out from this distance. Hank whipped around when their heads turned to look at him, feeling oddly embarrassed. 

“What did he say about me?” Hank hissed under his breath, talking to himself as he questioned his gut reaction to panic. “Can’t be that bad, right?”

“What can’t be that bad?” A man intruded on his thoughts with a tone of voice that sounded like an obvious pick up. 

Hank glanced in disinterest, admitting that he was handsome but not his type internally, and he shook his head, “Wasn't talking to you.”

The man sunk into the seat next to Hank, ignoring his lack of interest, and looked him up and down slowly. His body turned to face the stage as the crowd began to request Bear to sing for them and he tilted his head towards Hank, “He’s really somethin’, ain’t he?”

“Who?” Hank followed his lusty gaze and rolled his eyes when he realized this guy wasn’t here to hit on him, he was ogling his lover, “Bear? Sorry to break it to you, but he’s taken.”

“That’s a shame,” The man turned to Hank as Bear started singing a soulful rendition of ‘Put your Head on my Shoulder’, leaning on his elbow as he gave him a wicked grin, “What about you? I bet you’re packing some heat down there, am I right? I bet it's nice and thick.”

Hank’s ears grew hot and he almost failed to hear Bear’s voice over the angry thoughts. No stranger ever got anywhere talking to him like that. He sneered at the man, turning his attention on Bear, “That’s none of your business, boy. I suggest you leave me alone.”

“Do you fuck him hard? Like the little whore he is?” He asked as casually as someone asking for directions. 

Hank saw red. 

He didn’t even feel the punch connect, or hear the screams from the crowd as he sent the man to the floor with one blow, but his next rational thought was on tearing out this guy’s throat. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He picked him up by the collar, holding him off the ground as he shook him. 

“You think you’re his man? He belongs to me, asshole,” Henry spat in Hank’s face, unfazed by the busted lip he had received, “I bought and paid for that ass. He’s mine. Always will be no matter who fucks him.”

Bear reached the altercation quickly and gave his ex a look of pure disgust. He put his hands between the two of them, pushing them apart and standing with an arm held up to hold Hank back. “He ain’t worth it, Hank.”

“That’s not what you said when I was fucking you like the little fucking slut you are,” Henry screamed, raising his hand to strike Bear, but arms snared around him before he could let it fly. 

“Not cool, dude,” Baxter looked at him like he couldn’t believe Henry could behave like this, “Get the fuck out, now, or I let Hank, Bear, and the entire bar kick your ass.”

Henry snatched his arm free and shot them dirty looks as he tucked tail and left defeated. 

As if nothing had happened, the party carried on. 

“You okay, baby?” Bear turned to Hank, cupping his face and rubbing soothing circles over his jawline. 

Hank downed a glass of whiskey to banish the migraine building up behind his skull and he nodded at Bear, his mere presence alone having a calming, soul-healing effect on him. "I should be asking you that."  
"I'm mad, won't lie," Bear shrugged in a laid back manner, "Normally, I'd fly off the handle, but I know that's what he wants me to do. Ain't givin' him the satisfaction ever again."

They sat down together, and Bear took a look at his knuckles, “Your knuckles are gonna start lookin’ like mine soon.”

He studied Bear’s hands as they worked, focus drawn to his battle-torn, calloused knuckles. If the world wasn’t so dangerous, Hank wished he could build a life for them where Bear wouldn’t have to fight or struggle ever again. His life seemed to have been a difficult one, and all Hank wanted was to spend the rest of their time together making Bear feel loved. 

He tried to imagine what that would look like, instead of the nauseating image of Bear getting abused by Henry that wormed its way into his thoughts. 

“Hey, handsome,” Bear lifted his face to smile at him lovingly, “Don’t let ‘em get to you. He’s just a bad choice I made, I’ll make it up to you later.”

Hank returned the smile, feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders as Bear seemed to read his mind and say just the right thing, “You don’t have to do anything. I just hope this night ends quickly so I can hold you in my arms without people staring.”

“Well, then,” Bear shrugged light-heartedly, “Let’s go.”

“We haven’t even talked about the treaty yet, though,” Hank eyed him curiously. 

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, you’re more important,” Bear gave the room a conspiratorial glance before he reached over the bar and snagged a few bottles to-go, “They’re all gonna get too wasted to remember shit anyway.” 

Hank couldn’t help but chuckle as Bear brazenly pilfered their booze, and he joined in on the act to get his first taste of ‘stealing’. “Have I ever told you that you’re amazing?”

“Maybe once or twice,” Bear winked as he seamlessly hid the bottles under his coat and made it appear like they didn’t even exist. 

Hank gawped at what had to be actual magic as he blindly reached for the first bottle he could get. “How did you do that?”

Both of them looked at the glass jug of glowing blue liquor, reading the fancy label that said ‘Nuka-shine’. Hank looked at him, a modest question in his eyes, and Bear seemed to have a heated internal debate with himself before he finally shrugged like he was saying, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

\---

Back safe at the hotel room, Hank and Bear didn’t bother undressing as they hit the bed. Instead of taking his truck, they had decided to just take a leisurely walk back to the hotel with the intention of picking ‘Blue’ up in the morning. 

On the way, Hank cracked open the ‘Nuka-shine’, more curious than he ever had been for a drink, and the two of them passed it back and forth. 

Now, a mere ten minutes later, they both felt a heady inebriation that made the room swim. 

“Hey good lookin’,” Hank slurred as he pretended they were strangers for fun, “Are you single? Pretty little thing like you must have people fallin’ in your lap.”

Bear chuckled, smiling brilliantly at him, “I got my eyes on someone, but I’m not sure he knows yet.”

“If he hasn’t realized by now,” Hank took another sip of the deliciously burning shine and continued, “You might have to put up a billboard to tell him.”

Bear put his finger to his lip in thought, pretending to mull it over, before he glanced at Hank and smirked wickedly, “Do you think a blowjob would work?”

Hank sighed heavily, already burning hotter than a coal burning stove for Bear’s touch, and he reached to replace his finger with Bear’s. He dragged a gentle circle around Bear’s mouth, imagining those peach soft lips wrapped around his cock. "That might work."

A loud groan spilled freely from his chest as Bear took his finger into his mouth and showed him what he would do. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ hot,” Hank mumbled, feeling his head spin with lightehededness. He pulled Bear on top of him, kissing him with sloppy accuracy as his hand hungrily groped Bear’s ass. 

Bear sunk low, undoing his dress pants just enough until Hank sprung free from the restrictive clothing, and he took Hank’s cock into his mouth, stretching his lips over the shaft and expertly working his tongue in dizzying circles around the head. 

Hank moaned boisterously at the overwhelming wave of gratification that surged through him and his hand listlessly rested on the back of Bear’s head. He closed his eyes, momentarily stunned as Bear took him deeper into the wet warmth of his mouth until he could feel Bear easily reach the base.

“Just like that,” He muttered in a hushed tone as he watched Bear move his head up and down, dragging his tongue along the base as he did. His hand sifted through Bear’s coppery hair, pushing away the rebellious locks that dared to cover his gorgeous eyes. Hank felt like his heart would burst as Bear looked up at him with a hungry look. 

Bear guided Hank’s hand to the back of his neck, showing him just how much resistance he wanted before he encouraged him to move his hips. Cautiously, Hank tested a few gentle thrusts, not wanting to hurt him, before he put his free hand on the side of Bear’s head lovingly. The small, muffled moans that managed to push past Bear’s swollen lips made him lose a fraction of himself. 

“Oh fuck...Bear,” Hank screwed his eyes shut briefly as the provactive way Bear swallowed him was almost too much to handle. 

He swung his hips at a steady stride, watching Bear closely for a signal that he should stop, but it seemed the sky was the limit. Bear’s hands settled on Hank’s rear, gently kneading the flesh there while pushing him to go harder. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his face reddened as his strangled moans became choked in his throat. 

Hank grunted, his fingers flexing on the back of Bear’s head as he felt himself come close to the edge. He pulled away, feeling his heart flutter as Bear whined from the sudden shift, and he directed him to lay down on the bed with a husky tone of voice made Bear shiver.

He clumsily stripped the tight coat off to free up room to maneuver and pounced on Bear with every intention of returning the favor. Hank’s hands stumbled as they worked the buttons of his shirt, exposing Bear’s chest to the air after a struggle and lowering his mouth to drag his tongue over one of his stiff, pink nipples. 

Bear coiled his thighs around Hank’s waist, gripping the headboard with his hands, as Hank gave attention to the other nipple with his fingers. Hank worked on him for a bit, switching places with his hand, before he started trailing down. 

“It sounds dirty,” Hank hurriedly undid Bear’s buckle, frustratingly eager to suck him off as his drunken thoughts were nothing but vulgar now, “But you’ve got such a pretty cock. Everything about you is just goddamn perfect.”

He climbed in between his thighs once he’d pulled them down just far enough to grant him access, kissing and sucking on the soft, warm skin of his inner thigh. His mouth gradually moved to his cock, engulfing it in the warmth as he sent tremors through Bear. 

“Same to you. You’ve got a dick as thick as a Nuka-Cola bottle, baby,” Bear barely managed to form a reply that matched Hank’s compliment in crudeness as his voice trembled.

Bear’s hands gently massaged the tight curls on his scalp, showing his appreciation and rolling his hips at a staggered pace to meet Hank. He gasped as Hank curled his tongue over the tip and gripped the shaft with his hand. Bear breathlessly warned Hank after a moment, “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up.”

“Oh, I just got started, wildfire,” Hank smirked, the pride of getting his lover off so easily swelling in his chest. His fingers shifted under Bear, eyes widening with surprise as he noticed Bear was so eager that he could slide his fingers in and out of the sweet spot with ease. “You want me real bad, don’t you baby?”

Bear nodded submissively, face redder than a fire-truck, as Hank folded him in half and let his ankles dangle on either side of his head. 

“I love you,” Hank blurted out as the tip of his dick sunk deep, his thundering heart pounding for Bear and Bear alone. His hands clasped the headboard alongside Bear’s as he swung his hips at a hungry, uneven pace. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bear choked on his moans, losing control of his body and falling almost limp as the ecstasy took over and he could only barely hold himself in place. “I love you...Hank... Oh god...fuck.”

The sound of skin slapping skin didn’t mask their loud groans as Hank steadily increased pace, feeling a small piece of himself crumble with every thrust. He felt a burning urge to be as close as possible and lowered himself to smother Bear with his body, bending him to his limit as he buried his face in Bear’s neck. 

Bear’s legs bounced limply at the knees and his arms held onto Hank for support as he let his moans reach unchecked volumes. 

Hank suddenly shuddered, his climax hitting him so quickly he hadn’t felt it coming, and his hips thrusted at a staggered pace until he could feel Bear meet him. He caught his breath, just barely keeping himself from totally crushing Bear on shaky arms, and pulled out slowly with a grunt. 

The room spun violently as Hank completely blacked out and collapsed onto the bed.

“I wanna marry you,” Bear confessed, liquid courage allowing him to share his deepest wish, but after a moment, when he didn’t get a response, Bear looked at Hank and felt a simultaneous combination of contented tiredness and a relief that he would get more time to ask about marriage later when they were sober. 

He settled into a more comfy position, using Hank’s shoulder as a pillow, and felt sleep take him almost immediately.


	17. Together

February 14th 2083

First thing when he finally roused, Hank felt the killer headache inducing hang-over stab his brain as his other senses laboriously caught up to him. He opened his bleary, swollen eyes and gazed in utter confusion as the blinding sun stung them. 

Slowly, his fuzzy vision gathered what were clearly pine trees as he found himself laying on his back in a patch of icy dirt. He shivered forcefully as the frigid air bit his exposed skin.

He lifted his head, groaning in pain as it felt like an ice pick was being shoved repeatedly into the center of his skull, and struggled to understand what he saw next. 

A pair of lily-white, freckled buttcheeks stared back at him as his sluggish consciousness could only logically think of one thing to do in the moment. He swatted the rear forcefully instead of simply pushing it away, in an attempt to get whoever it was off of him, but the moment he did so he felt crippling guilt as it suddenly occurred to him that he knew that ass. 

Bear yelped involuntarily, rolling off of him as the surprise ripped him out of his hibernation. 

“Oh, baby,” Hank reached for him, but his hand returned to him quickly to hold his head as the sudden motion of sitting up nearly blinded him with pain, “I’m sorry.”

Hank trailed off as he looked around, finally accepting that he hadn’t been hallucinating the trees. They had somehow both wound up buck ass naked in the middle of the woods. “What the fuck?”

He struggled to remember anything after making love to Bear, and even then, that was foggy. 

“Hello, boner,” Bear rubbed the growing welt on his rear as he casually acknowledged his hard-on, keeping his eyes closed as he knelt in the dirt with a serene calmness that Hank didn’t share. “Now that was a good spank, you should do it like that more.”

“Bear, where the fuck are we?” Hank ignored his statement and cupped his groin to provide some sense of cover as he felt overwhelmingly exposed. 

“Don’t rightly now,” Bear got to his feet unsteadily and surveyed their surroundings with narrowed, light-sensitive eyes. “Not in Morgantown, that’s for sure.”

The humiliating walk of shame back to their hotel was an experience that Hank never wanted to relive, but he couldn’t say he hated every second of it. 

Bear had marched onward, having little to no shame for his body as they hiked down what appeared to be the very same mountain Hank had carried him down when they first met. He clearly seemed to have been in this situation before, so often, Hank guessed, that he was unfazed by it. 

“You just gotta cover your face,” He had told Hank as he peeled some bark from an oak tree and fashioned a mask using roots as string, dispensing his version of ‘wisdom’ while he tried to comfort Hank’s incredible embarrassment, “See, if your face is showing, everyone knows, but like this people gotta guess. Genius, right?”

“You are something else,” Hank had said, but still obliged his offer, seeing some twisted sense in it. He still requested something to cover his groin in exchange for letting Bear hitch a ride on his back the rest of the way. 

The moment they got back to the hotel, battling everything from the frigid cold to obvious stares, Hank let Bear down gently and climbed under the covers immediately after pulling off the makeshift ‘clothing’. He slammed a pillow to his head, determined to spend the rest of the day recovering from a hangover that made Halloween of last year look like a mild headache.

“I should’ve listened to you about the ‘blue stuff’,” He grumbled as Bear curled up next to him. 

Bear, feeling too anemic to respond other than softly humming, cuddled closer and instantly drifted off into a peaceful state of rest that made Hank feel a powerful infatuation. The comforting way Bear fit into his arms just right, and how content Bear looked being there despite the ordeal they had just gone through, it was indescribable for Hank. 

He drifted off with a broad smile, thinking about getting to hold him for the rest of their lives.


	18. Clash

March 14th 2083

A day later than intended due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’, Hank and Bear had kept their promise to the surprise of every Responder as a peaceful pact, albeit temporary, was made in Morgantown. Even a month later, despite the ongoing soul-crushing work to retrieve bodies for loved ones to bury, things seemed to have vastly improved simply from working out a deal between the starving students and belligerent cops. 

Melody felt confident the two of them, believing now more than ever that they were capable of moving mountains when combined, and she was looking forward to the results of this next mission. 

Meanwhile, as the grueling day filled with back-breaking work was winding down, the ‘lovebirds’ were celebrating their continued success in their own way. 

Hank grunted quietly, trying to muffle himself, and buried his sweltering face in Bear’s taut chest as the intense pace of their love making preoccupied his every thought. A few minutes ago, he had been hesitant to get frisky here and now in the office, knowing that the others were downstairs in the lounge, but getting caught was the farthest thing from his mind right now. 

Bear sat in his lap facing towards him, his legs tucked under Hank’s arms while his ankles were propped up on the back of the chair they were sharing. He leaned back, using his hands to find the desk behind him and lower himself onto the flat surface carefully. 

With the new angle their hips met at, and the incredibly alluring way Bear’s back arched, Hank was unable to catch himself and he groaned loudly and dug his fingers into the flesh on Bear’s back. He opened his eyes to watch Bear tremble as he hit that certain spot over and over, his lover moaning enthusiastically and without an ounce of shame. 

“That’s right, baby,” He muttered in a husky tone of voice as he also leaned back and let his head droop behind his shoulders. His strong grip held onto Bear’s hips as he put more effort behind his thrusts, “You like that?”

Bear felt his entire body being jostled by Hank’s movement as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He murmured a shaky and dripping with pleasure reply, “Yes, oh god... yes.” 

“Goddamn...baby, you’re so fucking tight for me,” Hank stammered out the best compliment he could think of at the time. He could barely remember that he was capable of speech, let alone form a sentence that didn’t sound so crude. 

Bear bucked his hips, matching Hank’s hungry stride, until his moan reached a crescendo and Hank’s name spilled from his lips. “Hank...just like that...ah-”

He bit his lip and his final outcry caught in his throat before a full body quake forced it from him. Hank followed quickly after him, gripping Bear tightly enough to leave marks, and he was left breathless and shaking. 

Hank let his ragged breath beat against Bear’s skin as he pressed his head to the tepid flesh of his chest. He spoke in between gasps of air, “Jesus...I say...some of the dirtiest things...when I’m inside you.”

“I like ‘Dirty Hank’, he’s raunchier than ‘Serious Hank’,” Bear stretched out over the desk with a languid smile plastered on his face. The muscles in his legs and arms twitched as Hank pulled himself out slowly, and he hummed at the pleasant dull throb he was left with. He could still feel Hank, even in absence.

Ironically, Betty Hutton’s ‘He’s a demon- He’s a devil- He’s a doll’ played over the radio and the perfect timing wasn’t lost on Hank. Bear was one of those ‘rogues’ his mama had warned him about, but he found himself not minding at all. 

“Alright, well ‘Dirty Hank’ really needs to get his shit together,” Hank helped Bear sit upright and he wrapped his arms around his middle, sliding under the open flannel button-up that pooled around Bear’s shoulder’s. His fingertips traced the scars on his back lovingly, “Nobodys caught us going at it...yet.”

“That’s part of the fun, handsome,” Bear planted a soft kiss on Hank’s warm, sweat glistened forehead, “We ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“Of course we don’t, havin’ sex is healthy,” Hank settled his chin on Bear’s shoulder as he pulled him closer into the embrace, “But I bet you don’t want one of Melody’s infamous lectures, now do you? She knows we do it, but if she catches us after she warned us not to we're in for it.”

“Please, I ain’t scared of her-” 

The door to the office swung open without warning and Bear dropped down between Hank’s legs quicker than a racoon scittering away from a broom. He was forced to fold in half as his bottom crashed to the floor while his legs were left dangling straight up in the air. 

“Sweet baby Jesus! In my office? Really?!” Melody wrinkled her nose in disgust upon finding them and slapped a folder on the desk in front of Hank as her temper reached a boiling point, “I swear, y’all are worse than fuckin' teenagers.”

Bear squirmed under the desk and poked his head out under it with a boyish smile, “Don’t mind me, ma’am, but...uh...can you reach me my britches please?”

He stretched until his finger caught the edge of his jeans. 

Melody rolled her eyes and kicked them into his face. If Bear really were her son, she didn’t imagine it would be any different than this. 

“Thank ya kindly,” He mumbled and sunk back under the desk as he got dressed.

“It won’t happen again, ma’am,” Hank had already quickly pulled his pants back up and leaned on the desk with his eyes averted in shame. 

“Damn right it won’t,” Melody folded her arms over her chest, her face clearly expressing just how ‘done and over it’ she was with the two of them, “Cause by the time y’all get back from your next mission I’m making you two nest somewhere else.”

The two of them shared a moment, looking at each-other with opposing expressions. Bear seemed hesitant, but Hank was excited. 

Melody watched the scene unfold, smiling morbidly as she recognized the first signs of an impending argument from her own decades long experience with marriage. She was willing to gamble that Bear wasn't ready to 'settle down' quite yet, while Hank was ready for 'domestic bliss'. 

With a wry smirk, she added to the pile of frustrations, “I told Jack and Sharon to tag along and keep an eye on the recruits with y’all, but they need the training just as bad as the rooks. I’m sure you can show ‘em a thing or two without losing your heads?” 

“If they fuck somethin’ up it ain’t my fault,” Bear, keen to avoid talking about moving in, left his flannel shirt unbuttoned as he shuffled barefoot to pick up his pack of cigarettes and light a smoke, “Jack can’t even tell when the vittles are spoiled and Sharon is...Sharon.”

Hank noticed his subtle evasion and his eyes narrowed in speculation. 

“You implyin’ that you’re somehow incapable of fuckin’ up?” Melody raised a brow, ribbing Bear like she would anyone else she cared for. 

“That’s right, I’m perfect in every way and my dick is huge,” Bear plopped down in a chair and flashed his gold tooth at Hank and Melody as they shared a crude chuckle at his inflated ego. 

Hank finally found a good moment to scan his eyes over the mission brief, saving confronting Bear for later, when he came across an odd detail. “We’re not using the Big Bend Tunnel to cross the mountains? Why?”

“It’d be too darn easy, that’s why,” Melody opened up several windows to let the humid air out of the room and allow a chilling breeze in, “I need this batch of recruits to be tough as nails. That shouldn’t be too hard with y’all leading.”

Bear and Hank glanced at each-other again, the question of 'living together' still lingering and leaving some tension. 

“Well, at least I’ll be entertained when Jack complains about havin’ to shit in the woods,” Bear shrugged as he blew smoke from his nostrils.


	19. Commit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I'll be honest with you, this chapter is very indulgent, but I couldn't help it. )

March 18th 2083

Sprinting through the woods at top speeds, boots crunching on snow, Bear briksly hopped over fallen logs and ducked through brambles as he tried to avoid being caught. He felt his heart pound against his chest as the person chasing him was close to gaining on him, but Bear pushed through the burn and used his spry reflexes to neatly dodge the grasping hands. 

He might have made it to safety, if not for one simple slip in his reaction time. 

Bear felt powerful arms grasp him around the middle as he hesitated just for a moment on his direction, and he was easily tackled to the ground when Hank used his size as an advantage. 

They wrassled on the icy forest floor, trying to topple each other as the struggle ensued. 

Hank won the upper hand as he snatched Bear’s wrists and hauled them high over his head, pinning him down into a fresh bank of snow with his weight pressed on Bear’s hips. “Got you, raider scum.”

In preparation for a series of Responder versus raider ‘war games’, they had hiked out to the Savage Divide ahead of the others to set up the base camp and it gave them more than enough time to fool around. At some point, Hank hoped to bring up moving in together, but he was waiting for the right moment. 

Now was definitely not the time. 

Bear panted from the thrilling exertion, his breath exhaling in clouds as his hot breath clashed with the cold air, and he shifted under his lover to get a better angle. He sighed languidly when he felt Hank’s rigid cock pressing into him in just the right way. “You win, Responder. What are you gonna do to me?”

Hank smirked devilishly, leaning down to kiss Bear’s neck as he uttered a promise, “I’m about to teach you a lesson and fuck you right here and now.”

Bear closed his eyes and turned his head to give Hank full access, moaning softly as he felt him drag his tongue over his skin. The cold was the last thing on his mind right now.

He dragged his lips over Bear’s jaw, squeezing the grip he had on his wrists in one hand while his other tugged the collar of Bear’s thermal shirt down. Bear’s spine arched lightly as Hank left a bruise on his neck with his mouth.

“Alright, you dirty raider,” Hank sat upright, letting go of Bear’s wrists long enough to peel off his coat and lay it under Bear to act as a buffer between his impending bare ass and the snow, “Get ready, cause I’m gonna make you pay for trying to escape.”

Bear’s brilliant smile silently told Hank that he was very much enjoying this as he rolled onto his stomach and lifted his hips into the air. He inhaled the scent left there in the fabric of Hank’s coat, associating the natural, earthy smell with the same pleasure he felt whenever Hank touched him. 

Turning his head to one side, Bear was just barely able to see Hank in his periphery, and he folded his arms behind his back. 

“You gonna tie me up so I can't get away?” Bear spoke with a low, sultry tone, knowing that it had the power to persuade Hank to do almost anything. 

Indeed, Hank knew it too, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Without hesitation, he uncoiled the length of nylon-rope that was strapped to his belt and Hank used it to bind Bear’s arms, ensuring that they held him firmly, but not too tight. 

“One more thing,” Hank fished a blue bandanna from his pocket and he showed it to Bear, “Can’t let you go callin’ for help either, now can I?”

Bear shivered at his words, feeling himself strain against the fabric of his underwear as he ached for Hank to take him. He lifted his head and allowed Hank to put the makeshift gag on him. 

He gasped with light surprise as Hank played rough and unceremoniously exposed him to the open air, yanking open his belt then tugging his pants down to his knees hard enough to almost make the fabric tear. The cold bit at his feverish skin, and Bear flinched at the shock of the sudden shift in body temperature. 

Hank, eager to get started and bury his stiff cock where it wanted to go, removed his glove with his teeth and wet his fingers with his mouth before he continued to make Bear open for him. His finger found purchase right away, working expert pressure on the spot that made the most luscious sounds come out of Bear. Mollified moans that were pleasantly muffled by the bandanna.

He smirked as he reached around to wrap his hand around Bear’s cock, finding, to his pleasure, that his lover was already leaking only minutes in. Hank used it as lube as he swirled his palm over the tip, sending an electric shock through Bear. He knew full well that rubbing Bear like this felt almost too good, being one of those strangely sensitive exploits that everyone had, but Hank reveled in the way it made him squirm. 

“That’s cheating,” Bear’s words were stifled and shaking as they barely passed through the bandanna. 

“I’m inclined to show you mercy,” Hank removed his hands and placed them on either side of Bear’s head as he leaned over him, pushing his hips into Bear's rear suggestively, “Just say the word.”

He pulled the bandanna down to let Bear speak.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ mercy, asshole,” Bear smirked devilishly as he got a rise out of Hank, seeing that he’d clearly gotten a shock as he played his role, “Just fuck me hard and make me your bitch. I want that big Responder cock to split me in half.”

Hank had to take a moment to chuckle at his own surprise, letting Bear’s almost too authentic impression of a horny raider sink in. He hadn’t expected hearing Bear talk like that would turn him on to the point of frustration, but there he was. 

“You got a dirty mouth. I won’t go easy on you,” He bluffed and made a show of shoving the bandanna back into Bear’s mouth before testing the tightness of the ropes, heart thundering in his chest as the overall thrill of playing rough made him feel deliciously depraved. 

Hank forcefully tugged his own belt open, letting his cock spring free, and he positioned himself behind Bear. He kept his eyes on the progress as he slowly sank deeper, pushing his hips forward while pulling Bear into him, and he relied on his ears to listen for any pained sounds that told him he had overstepped the boundaries. 

His hands squeezed at Bear’s hips in adoration for the sugar-sweet noises pouring from him and, once he was ready, he swung his hips at a greedy pace. Hank watched how it made Bear’s firm rear bounce provocatively against him, and he groaned his approval. 

Bear buried his face in the jacket as the intense wave of gratification made his face involuntarily scrunch up and begin to burn hot. He bit down on the bandanna, making it so any noise that came from him was muted. 

“I want to hear how much you like getting fucked by a Responder,” Hank leaned forward to lift Bear’s torso up, bending his spine to the limit as he pulled him back by the throat. He removed the gag and kissed Bear tenderly before he continued to thrust his hips, lightly squeezing his hand on Bear’s windpipe to choke him. 

“Fuck, baby I love it,” Bear stretched his words out, letting them peel from his throat with luscious arousal. He closed his eyes as his head lolled back, just barely touching Hank’s chest. 

Hank couldn’t get enough when Bear showed him how flexible he was, and he cooed his name lovingly as he watched the expression on his face. He saw it shift from a dazed smile, his lips slightly parted, to one of pure ecstasy, his mouth forming an ‘o’ and his brows knitting upwards, as Hank reached with his free hand to stroke him off. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bear bit down on his lip, letting the expletive draw out and hiss as it escaped past the barrier, and he let it stumble out of him in a hushed curse. “Hank...I’m getting close...please.”

Hank coaxed him, feeling himself reaching the peak alongside his love. “Cum for me, baby.”

They shuddered at the same time, for once, and Hank smiled with pride as he felt Bear spill heavily into his palm. His own climax seeped from Bear as he pulled out, and he shivered from the raw pleasure it gave him knowing he was responsible. “Got you good, didn’t I? Maybe I should chase you through the woods more often.”

“Im sure we can fit that somewhere in between workin’ our asses off and catchin’ what little sleep we can,” Bear quickly pulled his pants back on before he felt too lazy to make the effort. He touched a hard lump in his pocket, checking to see if a very important object was still there. 

Hank shrugged on his coat, eager to get them someplace warm now that they had gotten important urges out of the way. His next goal was getting them back to the tent where they could really enjoy post love-making cuddles. 

He played along as he brushed the snow from the sleeves, reveling in the glow he felt, “How does four o’clock sound?” 

They started hiking back to base, and although Bear carried on with the light-hearted conversation, he was internally screaming. He needed a good moment to ask Hank a serious question that honestly terrified him, but his courage eluded him.

By the time they returned to the tent and climbed inside, he could feel himself dangerously close to snapping as he watched Hank load fire-wood into the wood burning stove. Bear clutched the object in his coat and inwardly spiraled.

Hank and his keen senses had noticed that Bear was off kilter the entire hike back, and he chose this moment to ask with a calm tone, "Is everything okay, sweetheart? I didn't do it too hard back there, did I?"

Cornered, Bear had no choice but to bite the bullet and he spoke, nervous stutter making his words shake, "Can we...uh...can we talk?"

"Sure, what is it?" Hank kept his tone composed, but his heart skipped a beat when he heard those infamous words that, in his past experience, often preceded something bad. 

Bear swallowed the hard lump in his throat and chose his next words carefully, "I'm okay with us gettin' a place we can call home...but-"

Hank braced for impact. 

Hands shaking, Bear pulled a small velvet box out of his jacket and he got to one knee with unsteady balance, "I wanna do that... as your husband."

Hank's wide, unblinking eyes, stared at him blankly, making Bear feel incredibly self-conscious. He was on the verge of tears, kicking himself for asking too soon, "I...I know we've only known each-other for less than a year and I suck at feelings...truth is I'm fuckin' terrified of commitment, but-"

He trailed off, stopping himself before he continued to ramble. 

"You continue to surprise me," Hank spoke finally, lowering his eyes to the simple, but practical silver band and allowing a tear to slip from his eye, "Every time I think you ran outta ways to stun me, you find another."

He took the ring from the box and looked at it while Bear waited expectantly, a glittering, hopeful look in his eyes as Hank read the etching of their initials on the inside. 

In what felt like his previous life, before the war, Hank would have hesitated to move so quickly, but now it was everything he wanted. The world around them was too fraught with life-threatening danger, and the nightmares of him losing Bear made him want to live his life to the fullest. It wasn't a difficult decision to make, and he had actually thought of it often, but he was woefully under-prepared for Bear to pop the question before he could. 

"The answer is yes," Hank heart raced, filling full to burst with sincere devotion as he slid the ring on and started to cry, "I'll marry you. C'mere, baby."

Bear buried his face in Hank's chest, seeking shelter, as they sobbed overjoyed tears together. He leaned up to kiss Hank, lips meeting to express everything words couldn't say. 

"I can't believe you beat me to it," Hank stroked his hand through Bear's hair. He twisted in place, momentarily digging in his bag for something, before he presented a similar box to Bear. 

The two of them laughed, humored by how often they got the same ideas, and Bear studied the detailed patterns of the gold ring. It, like Hank's, was fairly simple with no stones set into it, but the band had etchings of what looked like twisting tree branches. 

"It was my mama's," Hank wiped his eyes and regained some composure, but he was still shaking with excitement as he watched Bear put it on, "Promised her I'd give it to someone special."

Bear smiled fondly as his chin wobble and his eyes watered again just looking at how it sat on his hand. Never in his life did he expect to see a wedding ring on his hand, let alone one that held such sentimental value, and Bear had to stifle an new sob. "You think she woulda liked me?"

"A mischief maker like you?" Hank teased, pulling Bear back into his arms and dancing to a song playing in his head, already picturing their first dance as husbands, "She woulda been almost as head over heels as I am."

Bear felt his paranoias melt away, closing his eyes as they swayed slowly, and he became like putty. Hank could use his body as a battering ram if he wanted to as far as he was concerned. "My mama would have adopted you in a heart beat, but she would of said somethin' like, 'Bear Levi Rogers, don't you dare cause trouble for that nice man, or I'll get the switch.'"

Hank chuckled low, moving them to lay down so he could get cozy with his brand new fiance, "Imagine Melodys face when we tell her." 

"What in tarnation, y'all must be soft in the head, this is a load of bull testicles!" Impersonating their Captain, Bear faked spitting on the ground and furrowed his brow to give himself a sour looking frown. 

A hearty, booming laugh flowed out of Hank at the accurate likeness, and he pulled Bear into another heated kiss as he dried their eyes with gentle touches. "You're right. She's gonna think we need pysche evals, but we'll deal with that when we get there. All this excitement has me a little...distracted."

Bear settled in the crook of his arm and swung his leg over Hank's waist as he returned the kiss, his hand snaking under Hank's shirt with every intention of taking it slow this time.


	20. Cryptid

March 20th 2083

Two days later, Jack and Sharon showed up with the recruits. 

Bear was tuning his guitar as he lounged comfortably against a fallen log, using his thick black and red fireman’s coat as a seat cushion. The cold didn’t seem to bother him much now that he sat by a glowing campfire and nursed a bottle of whiskey. 

He serenely hummed a few notes to the song ‘Magic Touch’ by The Platters while his mind wandered through distracting daydreams of Hank. The way his smile made Bear feel warm inside, Hank’s presence alone having a healing effect on his soul. He thought about his strong, capable arms keeping him safe, and the way he would use those same arms to pin him down and make love to him like no one ever had before. 

Bear had been mulling over a few things, wondering what the future would hold now that they were getting married. He still couldn’t believe it was real. It didn’t feel like something he had earned or was worthy of having. 

The recruits around him went about setting up their tents the way he had shown them without any of his supervision needed. This batch was much better at following the leaders than the previous group, although Bear had to admit that he had caused most of the drama from last year. 

Tomorrow, the war games would begin. 

Bear would take half of them and Sharon, forming the ‘raiders’, while Hank and Jack took the other half. 

Hank felt an ounce of guilt, being the only one present who had any experience with military training like this, but he knew Bear would give him a challenge. Knowing him, his fiance had probably already booby-trapped the entire staging grounds. 

He let that word, fiance, bounce happily in his head. It made him wish his mama could see him now. 

Hank smiled with ease as he joined Bear to sit by the campfire while they waited for the catfish they had caught earlier to cook, “Hey there, good lookin’. Gonna sing us a little tune?” 

“Maybe I might,” Bear glanced sidelong at him with his heavy lidded, flirtatious eyes and he smirked coyly, “Or...I could tell a ghost story or two. That’d really set the mood.”

Ears pricked at the mention of a ‘ghost story’, the magic words for any superstitious Appalachian that relished in a good yarn, especially nowadays, and the recruits began to rush to finish pitching their tents before they gathered like moths to a flame. 

“Sir, didja say you’d tell a story?” One said, his accent thicker even than Bear’s, and he sat down across from them. He pointed to his head and then to Bear’s, referencing the large scar on the side of his head just above the ear. “I heard you survived a maulin’?”

More excited, wide-eyed faces joined him and nodded in agreement. 

Rumors had spread, ironically, like fire in the station, and Bear had become something of a local legend to the newcomers. The tale of his survival, and Hank’s fearless rescue, were shared often as an example of endurance in the Wasteland, and every so often as a touching romance. 

“Is it true, sir?” The recruit leaned forward in interest. “I heard the thing disemboweled you and Sergeant Hank hadta carry your guts in a sack!”

“Naw, I heard it was a suitcase,” Another interjected and a small argument broke out over whether or not Bear had to haul his own entrails in various receptacles. 

Bear glanced at Hank, knowingly and with an accepting nod, before he set his guitar down, and shrugged out of his suspenders. He pulled his long sleeve thermal shirt up to his collarbone as he stood, showing them the crescent shaped mark over his chest and then he turned around to display his damaged back. Soft gasps sounded around the gathering onlookers as Bear silently confirmed the validity of the rumor. 

“Well, it didn’t gut me, but it did do a doozy on me anyway, I woulda died if I didn’t practically fall into Hank’s lap,” Bear shot Hank that sunny, warm smile he loved so much as he let the recruits inspect the gnarled scars a little closer.

Hank watched Bear’s face almost glow with pride at the ‘ohs and awes’ he was getting, being a notorious show-off that clearly enjoyed the attention. He couldn’t help but smile fondly, feeling those flutters of affection in his chest. 

He couldn’t wait to marry this man.

“The bear was nothin’ compared to this one story I got, though,” Bear fanned the flame of intrigue as he lowered his shirt and sat back down with a conspiratorial glance around at the captured audience. “The night I saw...the Mothman.”

Hushed whispers spread through the recruits, but Hank noticed Jack and Sharon rolling their eyes incredulously. 

“The Mothman ain’t real, dumbass,” Jack spat as he shook his head in disbelief. 

The recruits looked back and forth between the two opposing voices as if deciding who was correct. 

“Oh...it’s real,” Bear started laying it on thick and Hank suppressed a chuckle as he watched his expressive face move. He loved it when Bear really got into character. “It saved my life four years before Hank here did.”

Jack bit his tongue as he saw how interested the recruits were and he got up before Bear could continue, taking Sharon with him. 

“Four days after the bombs dropped,” Bear paused, making eye contact with every recruit, “Black rain fell from the sky...on Halloween of all days. I’m sure some of you remember that day.”

Of course, some among them could recall when the sky blackened and the storm raged from dawn until dusk, but all of them had luckily had some kind of shelter when it had happened. Stuck inside their homes, bunkers, or even caves, it seemed only Bear had experienced it first hand. 

Hank could remember that he and his fellow marines cloistered up inside of a cave with Taggerdy and her company. They had seen it, but didn’t stay long to watch as the toxic substance coated everything in a steaming, tar like blackness. 

He pictured Bear, recently escaped from Eastern Regional, cold and probably starving out there in that horrific storm. So much had happened to him, and it panged Hanks heart knowing how full of strife his life had been. He was a man in desperate need of love, and, luckily, Hank was a man with a lot of love to give. 

“I, unfortunately, got caught out there in that cluster-fuck,” Bear let his gaze fall to the side as he brought to mind the details of that day. His expression faltered just subtly enough to show as he saw Hank’s look of concern before he returned to his corny, over the top narration of the events. 

“I was covered, head to toe, in this black, burning sludge. Had nowhere to hide from the stuff,” Bear gestured to his body and pretended he was trying to wipe it off, “I was trying to find somewhere, anywhere to escape, but I was stuck in the middle of nowhere...and that’s when I saw them eyes. Glowin’ purple like two saucer sized lights in the darkness.”

He started slowly walking around the fire, the gold ring he wore glinting just like his eyes as the light danced over him, “It’s body was somehow blacker than everything else around it, with a wingspan longer than a diesel truck and twice as tall as Hank over there.”

The recruits' heads followed him as he imitated how the creature stood, rapt fascination on each of their faces, “It just stared at me, like it knew I was in trouble.”

Bear completed the circle around the fire after a lull, sending a soft smile and a roguish wink in Hank’s direction, “And then, it was like walking down a never-ending hallway. Stretching for an eternity, but I could never get close enough to see it in detail. I followed it’s glow, captured like a lost soul following the light in the tunnel, and I just kept going until it led me to the mouth of a cave.”

Hank spared a glance at the recruits, and saw that their faces were waiting in horrified anticipation. He turned back to Bear and returned the wink.

“I felt compelled to descend. Like an outside force was in control of my body,” Bear lowered his gaze to the ground briefly. 

He described in vivid detail how he crawled deeper into the cave, going lower and lower through openings barely wider than his hips and shoulders in the pitch dark, and Hank shivered at the claustrophobic image. He closed his eyes as he tried to think of something more pleasant. Tight spaces were one of Hank’s worst fears. 

“When I finally reached the bottom, deep underground,” Bear put a comforting hand on Hank’s shoulder briefly before he made another pass around the fire, “I saw a dark pool of water lit by glowing fungus I’d never seen before. Pretty colors, like blue and pink and orange, lit the space up just enough for me to see.” 

Horror transformed to wonder as he described the dream-like surroundings he had found himself in. 

“The ceiling above glittered like the night sky and I felt...warm,” Bear came to a rest next to Hank, smiling like he had sunk into a cozy bubble bath, “Of course...I got into the water. Desperate to get the gunk off me, I just did it.” 

He fell silent as his eyes closed to picture the enchanting memory. 

After a deafening minute, one of the recruits spoke up finally, “A-and then what, sir?”

Bear opened one eye and smirked at him, “Well...I still can’t remember how I got out. After going into the water, just found myself miles away and months later with no memory of the time that had passed, healthy and not a single burn on me.”

The recruits whispered amongst themselves, already brewing up theories and trying to debate whether or not it was true. Some even glanced at the darkening sky with apprehension for fear of being whisked away. 

Hank curled his arm around Bear’s shoulders, shaking his head in feigned disapproval, “Look what you did. Now they’re gonna have nightmares about the Mothman.”

“He ain’t so bad,” Bear cracked open a cold beer and kissed Hank’s arm through his thick coat, But that does remind me. I’m a very bad man, and I got an itch to go rile up Jack and Sharon.”

“You do you, baby,” Hank encouraged him, smiling with fiendish delight as he let loose his fiance to reap chaos. 

\---

For the next hour or so, Hank taught a few night-time lessons to the recruits after they had filled their bellies and he managed to cover the basics of survival. Which wild plants were edible and which weren’t. How to navigate using the stars. What to do when you step in poison ivy. 

All the tricks and tips he knew condensed into one lesson. 

Finally, he showed them how to start a fire with a stick, a rock, and some friction, and by then he felt drained of all energy. All of this came naturally to him by now, and Hank had greatly underestimated what it took to be a teacher. He could have sworn that it was easier the last time, but his head just wasn’t in the right spot.

It didn’t help that his mind kept fixating on a certain image of Bear. 

He could easily imagine Bear laying on his back in the nude, every freckle, scar, tattoo, and curve of muscle open for Hank to see. The sultry, come-hither look in his brilliant green eyes and the hint of a devious smirk playing at his soft peach colored lips as his face reddened and he began to quiver under Hank’s touch. Sounds, soft and elongated, that made Hank feel like his heart might burst.

It was obvious that he was smitten, and his mind was now more than ever often in the gutter, but that didn’t seem to vex him as much as he had originally thought it would. Being this taken with someone else had seemed daunting at first, but now he looked forward to being this distracted for the rest of his life. 

Hank couldn’t have possibly wrapped up the lesson any quicker as he saw Bear return from his ‘secret mission’ and he dismissed the recruits with unsubtle eagerness. “Hit the sack y’all, we’re done here.”

The recruits stared at him for a moment, unsure if they had heard correctly, but upon repeating himself they all hurriedly retreated to their tents. 

“Hey there, wildfire,” Hank struggled and ultimately failed to hide that seductive tone he used when he had a certain thought on his mind. “You know, this camping trip is doing wonders for me. Seein’ you out here, in your element, makes me want to just-”

He caught Bear around the middle, hoisting him into the air with ease, and growled playfully as he buried his face in his neck. 

Bear laughed and kicked wildly as Hank’s scruff tickled him. 

“You’re awful eager, ain’t you?” Bear relaxed his arms around Hank’s shoulders, allowing his feet to dangle off the ground when Hank stopped, “You know, Melody would have a conniption if she saw us being all...wassit called... ‘public display of affection’?” 

“You know how hard it is for me to be professional when you’re around,” Hank carefully guided them to their tent, holding Bear by his rear as Bear’s legs wrapped around his waist. “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when I feel like this, huh?”

“I’ll show you somethin’ hard,” Bear teased, proving Hank’s point as he sprawled himself out on his back seductively. 

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Hank zipped up the tent before dragging the wide span of his hands over Bear’s body slowly, “One day I’m gonna be too busy staring at your ass and I’ll fall off a damn cliff or somethin’.”

Bear bit his bottom lip as Hank undid the snaps of his uniform's suspenders and thumbed open the button to his pants with ease. He quietly watched as Hank undressed him, clothes being tossed in careless piles around them. 

“Ain’t you worried we’re gonna wake the kids with my caterwaulin’?” Bear shivered as Hank wrapped his rough fingers around his cock the moment it was freed and began stroking with a gentleness surprising for a man of his size. 

“I was thinkin’,” Hank’s gaze dragged up and down Bear, drinking in the details, “What if we played a little game?”

Bear peeked at him with an intrigued gaze, clearly aroused by the proposition, “What sort of game?”

“It’s simple,” Hank lowered himself to tower over him, meeting his gaze with a sly smirk, “We try not to make a sound, first one to crack loses.” 

“That’s no fun,” Bear watched as Hank undressed to match him, skin to skin, and proceeded to dig in a duffle bag for something. “I like hearin’ you.”

He casually poured lube onto his fingers and wordlessly slid them in between Bear’s legs. 

Bear arched his back and clapped his hand over his mouth, unconsciously playing along with Hank’s game despite his half-hearted protest. 

Hank smirked wickedly at him as his fingers worked to widen him enough for his cock. “No fun, huh?”

Biting his fist as he scrambled for purchase, Bear clutched the sleeping bag with his free hand and let his thighs split open as the electrified sensation washed over him. Small, choked noises already threatened to push past his sealed lips. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna win at this rate,” Hank, hungry and impatient for more, skipped the usual foreplay the moment he knew Bear was ready and pulled his fingers out as he positioned himself in between Bear’s legs. He concentrated on not making a sound as he entered, watching Bear’s red, flushed face twinge with barely concealed pleasure as Hank stretched him. 

Hank was about to make a comment about how good Bear made him feel, but he had to bite his tongue to prevent the languid sigh teetering on the edge of slipping away from him when he felt himself welcomed into the tight, warm space. He buried his face in Bear’s neck, smothering him with his much larger body as he tried to keep quiet.

“Goddamn…” He whispered against furnace hot, peach-soft skin, carelessly letting his lips drag against Bear’s collarbone as he felt his cock throb from the restrained, slow pace of his hips. “You’re so...fuckin’ tight, wildfire.”

Hank trailed off, scrunching up his face as Bear dug into his back with his fingernails. His thighs wrapped around Hank’s waist tightly, demanding him to go further and faster. He tried to take it slow, knowing that if he put in any more effort he’d definitely lose their little game, but Hank couldn’t maintain that for long. 

He hushed Bear, placing a finger over his mouth, and sat up to pull Bear’s lower half off of the ground and place one ankle on either side of his head. 

Bear twisted his torso until he could bury his face in the fabric of the sleeping bag, biting down on it as Hank increased his stride. 

Hank let his head fall back, trapping his moans in his throat as he felt Bear’s legs shake.

“F-fuck,” Bear repeated, stuttering as he hissed the expletive through his teeth, “I...I’m gonna…”

Hank saw his opportunity, and he took it. He palmed the tip of Bear’s cock and moved it in just the right way, earning a loud, appreciative moan. He slowed down, smiling at Bear and his victory, “Gotcha.”

Bear pulled Hank down into a heated kiss, trapping his head in his arms, “Rematch?”

“I’m just gonna win again,” Hank’s competitive side was showing, but he still allowed Bear to roll him onto his back and take command.

“Not unless I play dirty,” Bear turned in place, facing away from Hank as he straddled his hips. Slowly, so that Hank could enjoy the show, he guided Hank’s cock back inside before he started riding him at a frustratingly slow pace. His hand reached between their legs to gently massage Hank’s balls. 

“No fair,” Hank hummed with a low, throaty tone of voice as he watched Bear’s hips hypnotically rise and fall. That was his sensitive exploit, and he supposed it was only fair that Bear used it against him, even though he said otherwise. 

He put his hands on Bear’s ass, lovingly groping and tugging at the flesh there, before his hands pulled Bear down onto his cock insistently. “You’re killin’ me here.”

Bear leaned back on both hands, changing the angle in just the right way for Hank to let out an unrestrained groan of his own.

“Gotcha,” He taunted Hank. 

“You’re gonna get it, now,” Hank smirked deviously as he sat up just enough to pull his chest and Bear’s back together, lacing one hand over his throat as he held him there. He pulled his knees up between Bear’s legs, splitting them as wide as possible and making it so he had full reign. 

Bear’s spine arched as Hank lightly squeezed on his windpipe, using the grip to counterweight his thrusting hips. His arms automatically curled behind Hank’s head to hold on as he submitted to the mind-numbing pleasure. 

“Fuck...Hank,” Bear whined, forgetting all about their game and openly moaning. 

Hank moved his hand, sliding it over Bear’s mouth to contain the intoxicating sounds spilling from him. He let Bear’s head loll to the side while his mouth pressed to his neck, sucking and biting to prevent himself from making too much noise.

Bear spilled his name through his fingers, and Hank could feel his entire body aching for release, the buildup of his swiftly approaching climax making a groan explode from Hank’s throat. 

He reached to stroke himself as Hank’s unrelenting stride made Bear feel like he was going to shatter into a million pieces. The pure ecstasy driving him towards the edge, he turned his head, placing his lips against Hank’s jaw, and choked out, “Hank...I’m gonna...fuck I’m gonna cum.”

Hank felt himself getting closer and he started blurting out crude encouragement, watching as Bear’s eyes crossed and began to flutter in a way that drove him insane with desire, “Cum for me, baby. I want you to…oh fuck…”

He trailed off as he felt himself burst, Bear’s walls clenching him tightly as he almost immediately slumped over limply. Bear let his own climax spill all over his own chest, painting his rosy skin. Their tensed muscles relaxed simultaneously, both vibrating from the tremendous release. 

Hank wrapped his arms around Bear, caring very little about the sticky mess there as sweat and seed mingled. He kept himself deeply buried inside Bear, twitching and softening as his head spun with blissful lightheadedness. 

“We...definitely woke everyone up,” Hank muttered breathlessly with his eyes closed as he felt himself becoming absorbed in the radiating heat of Bear’s skin. He smirked as, indeed, his ears could already pick up the annoyed mumbles of the others.

“No kiddin’?” Bear wiped the sweat from his face, feeling the cold touch him with icy fingers as he shivered. His body felt thoroughly and pleasantly used. “We could lie and blame it on the Sheepsquatch or somethin’. Maybe even a mountain lion or a bobcat?”

“Bobcat,” Hank helped them get cleaned up, and he ribbed Bear a little as they got ready for bed, “You bite and scratch like one, so it’s not really a lie.”

“I ain’t like that,” Bear faked an indignant pout. 

“My back says otherwise,” Hank chuckled as he yanked Bear into his arms and guided them down onto their open sleeping bags. 

Bear playfully growled low in his throat, pretending to ‘claw’ at Hank’s bare chest. 

“Don’t even think of gettin’ me all worked up again,” Hank watched him with a sleepy smile, feeling his heart swell as Bear gave him an impish, defiant look. 

“My poor old man,” Bear laid himself out on Hank’s chest and stroked his jaw with his knuckles, “Can’t keep up with a pretty young thing like me, huh?”

Hank closed his eyes, sinking into the caress as he snuggled them comfortably under the covers before the cold air could freeze them. He teased with a contended tone of voice, “Thirty-four isn’t old, you little jerk.”

“Whatever you say, big jerk,” Bear and Hank chuckled, bellies reverberating off of each-other.


	21. Danger

March 21st 2083

Groggily, Hank woke to find Bear, as usual, sprawled out into an impossible and uncomfy position. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe this was just a bizarre quirk he’d have to get used to, but Hank cherished little moments like this. 

He unstuck himself from his sleeping bag, covered in a patina of sweat from last night’s activities, and pulled Bear’s hips to make him lay on his side. Muttering to himself, he spooned Bear with every intention of going right back to sleep, “Stickin’ your ass up in the air even in your sleep. That’s my wildfire.”

“There’s...a damn racoon ...put pinecones in my mouth…” Bear grumbled, still fast asleep as he spoke utter nonsense. “I didn’t paint the shed...forgot to...”

Hank listened with closed eyes, an effortless smile stretching his lips as he jokingly urged the sleep-talk conversation further, “Is that right?”

“No...no pants…” Bear shifted, fidgeting around until he was laying on his stomach and had his face buried in Hank’s bicep, “I done told em…”

“What did you tell them, baby?” Hank was well aware Bear couldn’t hear him right now, but he found it entertaining anyway. 

“I got plenty…of that...” Bear drooled on him and seemed to fall silent then. After a hot minute, however, and just when Hank had started to drift off again, he suddenly got up to his feet and looked around the tent with erratic confusion, “Motherfucker, you’re flooding the engine!”

Still in a daze, he automatically started pulling on his uniform as if he could hear the station’s alarms, and he stumbled as he tried to yank the wrong boot onto his foot. 

Hank exploded with delirious laughter as he caught Bear in his arms, trying to calm his lover down in between bursts, “Baby, honey, it’s okay. Nothin’s on fire, just calm down.”

“Huh...whassat?” Bear mumbled as he slowly came around to consciousness, his bleary-eyed, dark-circled eyes gathering his surroundings slowly, “Oh...I was dreamin’.”

Hank kissed him on the forehead, stroking his thumbs soothingly over Bear’s freckled cheeks as his hands cupped his face, “Yea, you were. Tell me about it?”

Bear relaxed and melted into his embrace, releasing the tension in his shoulders, “Just started like it was last night again. I went to go pester Jack n’ Sharon while they were makin’ goo-goo eyes at each other. Jack was all, “You’re blocking the view asshole’.”

His over the top impression of Jack made Hank smile affectionately. 

“So then I said, ‘Who me? I am the view.’ Happened just like it did in real life, but then it got weird and Jack made racoons feed me pinecones and he flooded the engine of my fuckin’ truck.” Bear inhaled Hank’s natural, comforting scent as he buried his face in his chest hair. 

“I won’t let him do that,” Hank ran his fingers through Bear’s messy red hair. “I’d whoop anyone’s ass if they so much as look at ‘Old Blue’ the wrong way, baby.”

The corners of Bear’s lips stretched broadly as he leaned his head back to kiss Hank deeply.

“What time is it anyway?” Bear could see light peeking through the small holes in the tent as if the sun was high in the sky. 

“Hell if I know,” Hank let him go so that they could begin their morning rituals. He twisted in place, cracking his spine and groaning at the relief, “I tend to sleep hard when I got you in my arms. I’ll go make some coffee.”

“Here baby,” Hank handed Bear the pain medication for his back that he was trusted to hang onto with a loving smile before he got up and exited the tent. He knew it would take Bear a minute to get ready, so he closed the flap to let him do his routine in peace, but when he turned to look at the camp he was dumbstruck. 

He stared at the empty space, no other tents in sight, and furrowed his brow in confusion. “Uh...Bear?”

Bear stuck his head out, a thin layer of a mint colored clay mask already covering his face, and he shared Hank’s confusion. He quickly wiped his face with a rag and climbed out to stand next to Hank, scratching his head, “The hell? Where did they go?”

Realization dawned on Hank and he grumbled irritably, “I think I know. Last night they were going on about this radio station they found while I was showin’ them which channel we use. Seemed keen on following it, so I told them I’d think about it after we did what we came here for. Jack n’ Sharon must have ‘okayed’ the trek without askin’ me. Fuckers.”

“Those little bogsuckers. What station?” Bear started packing up their things, feeling his patience slipping already. He hated it when people didn’t listen to Hank. 

“Some...weird hillbilly said something’ about drinking’ and making a lot of ‘ruckus’, I dunno I only caught a piece of it,” Hank crouched low on one knee to help him. 

Bear quirked his brow, he couldn’t deny drinking and making a ruckus sounded fun, but it still didn’t forgive the recruits going behind Hank’s back, “Well, maybe it’s one of them repeating messages. ‘Member the number?”

He tuned the radio he carried to the range Hank recalled it was around until the static became words. 

“This is Dane Rogers,” The message started and Bear blanched, looking ghostly pale as his eyes met Hank’s. 

\---

They hiked in palpable, worrying silence as Bear chose the heading and led the way at a determined pace. He stopped every now and then to let Hank catch up with him, looking back impatiently, before he’d continue marching forward like a machine bent on completing the task. 

Hank wanted to ask him if he was okay, not sure what how well Bear got along with his brother, but everytime Bear looked at him his words failed him. He’d never seen Bear this upset, even a year ago when he was struggling with chem addiction so badly that he was essentially a live wire ready to explode. Now, it seemed like Bear was a nuke capable of destroying an entire city. 

He held his tongue, hoping that by now Bear trusted him enough that he would explain when he was ready, but the delay stung him deeply. 

They eventually came upon a clearly abandoned but well-fortified homestead of sorts halfway through the day, and other than the crunch of gravel and snow under their boots all was ominously quiet. Not even a single bird was chirping. Hank felt an almost primal sense of fear at how unnatural the silence was. 

He scanned their immediate surroundings, noting the two guard towers made from scrap wood, several ‘silver bullet’ trailers parked around a large corrugated steel barn, and a little blue farm house at the far end of the compound. It was clear to him that a large group used to call this place home, but the ‘used to’ was what really concerned him. 

It had to have taken something horrible to make this place empty, whether its inhabitants chose to leave or otherwise, and Hank’s keen senses could pick up traces of the faint negative energy here. 

“I don’t like this,” Hank felt the presence of what had happened here like a spector, the horror and the screaming lingering just in the back of his head, but he couldn’t quite parse it all out.

Thunder clouds billowed overhead, threatening to unload a torrent of icy rain or heavy snow any second now as they searched the buildings. 

The large metal building appeared to be an open air bar, filled with overturned benches, a small stage, and dozens of empty beer bottles. Hank noticed an out of place object almost instantly, recognizing one of the Charleston station's standard issue helmets laying on a table in the middle of the space. The recruits, Jack and Sharon included, had definitely been here. 

Bear had seen it too and nodded at Hank before he turned to the farm house, “Let’s try there. I’ll search the top floor, you get the ground level.”

The powerful stench was what hit Hank first as he followed Bear up the gravel path and inside, like sour, rotten meat that had sat out in the sun for hours. He instinctively pulled his gas mask over his face the moment it burned his nostrils, but it only did so much to block out the nauseating odor. 

He glanced at Bear, hoping to see him share the same misgivings and say they should leave, but Bear charged forward and up the stairs without so much as flinching. 

Hank pushed past his own instincts to flee, continuing his search for their lost people, and within a minute he finished looking for clues on the first floor. 

Hesitantly, he turned and looked at his only remaining option, filling to the brim with dread as he stared at the staircase leading to the basement. With extreme caution, Hank descended until he saw something that made him recoil in terror. 

“Bear, get the fuck down here,” He shouted in absolute panic, “Oh fuck...is that-”

Bear came thundering down the stairs at his beckoning and tore past Hank, placing himself protectively between his fiance and whatever it was that he saw. 

His expression was impassive as he stared at the bloodied arm dangling from the door jam, unable to feel anything as the gut-wrenching fear immediately numbed him as a defense mechanism. Bear climbed down the stairs, slowly, and paused before his hand touched the knob as he listened to the door for sounds.

The second Hank laid eyes on the gruesome carnage as the door opened, his hands were tearing his mask away and he propelled himself towards a trashcan to spew the contents of his stomach violently. He had seen more than enough to make him sick.

He got flashbacks to the battle in Anchorage, and the terrible moments he witnessed. One prominent memory and the worst one he had was watching an army-man, one of their ‘best-and-brightest’ seven foot tall warriors wearing brand new T-45, get fragged and torn to pieces. Hank had watched in confusion as the man’s leg exploded and sent a spray of blood and bone that covered his face. 

Hank would never forget the screams. The barrage of explosives that rendered hundreds of men into unrecognizable, mangled corpses that littered the battle field and the snow that saturated with blood. Red as far as the eye could see.

Meanwhile, as Hank kept his distance, Bear couldn’t look away. 

His own twisted fears and trauma prevented him from moving a muscle. 

Blood and sinewy gore covered every inch of the space. The arm fell to the floor with a wet, sickening thud as it detached, the door being the last thing holding it to the torso. Stalactites of still dripping entrails, tendons, and bone fragments covered the ceiling and in the corner, he glimpsed Jack’s corpse frozen in a moment of utter terror, missing his entire jaw. 

Bear could see the savage claw marks that had ripped flesh from the bone dragging down his chest and knew whatever was capable of doing this was far worse than any wild animal. 

He backed away on shaky legs as the scene finally registered in his shattered state of mind. 

The sound of Hank still retching was distant to him as his brain overloaded and all Bear could do was sit down and silently weep. Dane’s body had to be in there somewhere, and the thought of how impossible it would be to identify him painfully twisted Bear’s heart. 

Hank finally got a hold of himself after some concerted effort, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and trying not to let the sickly, acrid smell of his vomit cause another episode. He sprinted over to Bear, practically hauling him to his feet by the scruff of his neck as he hissed out a desperate, “We gotta get the fuck out of here, now.”

They reached the door and nearly bowled over another figure in their haste to leave. 

Sharon opened her mouth to scream, but Bear was on her before Hank could even recognize her blood soaked frame as another human being. Bear’s palm slammed over her mouth and he rapidly dragged her up the stairs as she kicked and flailed, fighting hysterically to escape his forceful grip. 

Hank experienced a strange suspension of reality, feeling like time had slowed almost to a halt as his frazzled mind dimly registered that they had all seen the spindly, impossibly fast creature sprinting straight for them the moment Sharon had opened her mouth. He was caught dead in his tracks, unable to run with Bear until it was too late, and the creature snatched him with impossible speed. 

He felt his jaw crack onto the hardwood floor, hard enough that he nearly blacked out, as the jagged toothed maw snapped around his ankle with bone-breaking force and easily toppled him over. It dragged him out onto the lawn so quickly he became disoriented and his screams were so deafening as it dawned on him that he was about to die that he failed to notice the gunshot that fired close to his head. 

Hank blacked out briefly, ears ringing from the gunshot, and everything happened so quickly that by the time he came to he was bleeding out on the floor of the farmhouse and watching Bear fight off the creature with a fire axe as if he was watching from outside of his body. 

Something thudded to the floor, sounding too distant to have happened within his vicinity as his hearing recovered slowly, and the creature let out a bone-chilling roar. 

All of the sudden, Hank could feel the blinding, white-hot pain in his leg and he screamed again, the sound tearing his throat. The quick fingers of his fiance placed something solid into his mouth and Hank bit down instinctually as he grasped for Bear’s hand, wanting nothing else other than to feel his comforting touch.

“That bitch got you good,” Bear’s shaking hands weren’t gentle, his lack of composure showing as he panicked, and he hurriedly ripped Hank’s pants to get at the wound, “Just stay with me, baby. Stay with me- will you shut the fuck up?”

He whisper-shouted at Sharon, trying not to entice the creature even more with loud noises as she wailed and sobbed before his eyes darted around the space, rapidly following the movement of the creature while his hands kept working on Hank’s wound. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He muttered repeatedly, gritting his teeth so hard Hank could hear them grind, “Stay with me Hank. You’re gonna be okay.”

The creature seemed to retreat for the moment, and Hank’s eyes caught a glimpse of what had fallen to the floor as he forced himself to stay cognizant. 

Nearby Bear’s axe, covered in thick black blood, rested the severed clawed arm of the beast. Hank’s dulled senses tried to grasp what it reminded him of until he felt a sharp pain shoot up his spine and spike him in his skull. 

He spit out the wooden spoon and howled as Bear reset his broken ankle into its rightful place and he beat his fist on the floor repeatedly in an attempt to distract himself from the pain. Hank bellowed a series of obscene expletives, unaware of what he was saying exactly and feeling a hot and cold sweat drench him as the unexpected pain fried his nerves. 

Bear wore a soul-crushing, frantic expression as he wrapped Hank’s leg with his spare aid supplies and returned to guarding their lives. 

Being the last unschathed person left standing, he picked up his shotgun and waited for the inevitable with pure terror. He wasn’t going to let whatever this thing was take the one more person from him.

Sharon had resigned to a corner of the room, curled into a tight, sobbing ball. 

“Bear,” Hank reached for his rifle with feeble, unsteady hands. “Baby, I gotta tell you something.”

Bear seemed deaf to his request, his palpable fear sinking too deep for him to react properly. He’d never again forget seeing Bear like this. So terrified he couldn’t move. That alone broke Hank’s heart. 

“Please,” Hank desperately wanted what felt like his last moment to be a tender one as he reached out for him, “Come here.”

The clawed arm caught his attention again, and Hank swallowed hard as it dawned on him what they were up against. 

Bear finally came to his side, backing up until he could crouch low to be by Hank’s side, and he spared a terrified glance towards his lover. 

“I know what this is,” Hank had originally planned to say he loved Bear one last time before he died, but now he wanted to be able to say it once they survived, “We can kill it.” 

“When I was little,” Hank winced in pain as he shifted to hold his rifle better, “My mama told me about this thing. Used to be human but it...it changed. Ate human flesh. I can’t say it’s name... but it’s the reason I don’t know my grandparents on my mama’s side.”

Bear’s full attention turned to Hank, searching the details of his face.

“Mama grew up on a reservation...out west,” Hank continued, “She says this thing, it’s a curse. Fast, hungry, and dangerous, but I think we can kill it.”

“How?” A glint of hope seemed to appear in Bear’s eyes. 

Hank could feel his consciousness slipping from shock and blood loss, and he desperately clung to what will he had left, “Cut its head off.”

Just then, as if it could hear Hank conspiring to end it’s miserable life, the creature hit the door so hard a splintering crack formed in the center. 

Bear reacted quickly, aiming his shotgun at the door with shaking hands and shouting at the monster, “I fuckin’ dare you!”

He sprinted for his axe as the creature kept ramming the door, trying to break it down with it’s hideous strength. The creature screeched in a way that could make even the most stalwart of people cower in fear. 

“Come on!” Bear hollered again, positioning himself infront of the door, “Do it you fucking bitch! Come get some!”

The door fractured until it split in half and the horrific face of the creature came into view. 

Bear blasted it’s face with a decisive pull of the trigger at point blank range, but the creature seemed to eat the pellets and get even angrier. It thrust it’s good arm through the door so quickly that Bear failed to dodge in time and it attempted to pull him through the hole. Bear’s face hit the door, hard enough his forehead split open and blood started flowing down his face, and he fought against it’s impossible strength to free himself. 

“Bear!” Hank yelled desperately, forgetting his own injury and attempting to stand. The moment his weight pressed to his ankle he collapsed, the pain so intense that Hank completely blacked out as he fell to the floor like dead weight.


	22. Hurt

March 23rd 2083

Hank ran for dear life through the woods, but it felt like he was treading through mud. 

The thing behind him was gaining, quick, and he knew if it caught him he’d die. 

He suddenly fell to the ground as he became paralyzed, his eyes sealing shut and refusing to open again while his limbs refused to move. The thing crawled on top of him, pressing it’s raspy breath to his ear, and then in a voice Hank never wanted to hear again, it said, “I ate all of them...but I’m still hungry.”

Hank came to a screaming awakening as he sat bolt upright in the hospital bed, drenched in cold sweat and visibly shaking. He heard a huge clatter before an arm wrapped around him, and it took a moment to register that it was Bear. 

Bear had been deep asleep nearby, laying upside down in a chair with his legs in the air, and had been so startled by Hank’s scream that he fell out of the chair as he scrambled to his side. He tried to use a soothing tone, but his heart was still racing from the surprise and his voice rattled out of him “Hey, it’s okay, I’m here baby.”

Hank relaxed into the embrace, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He started bawling, fingers gripping into Bear’s clothes tightly and dimly aware that Bear’s arm was in a sling. 

“I had the worst nightmare...the wen-” He slapped a hand to his own mouth, nearly forgetting himself and the warning his mother had given him, “It killed everyone.”

Bear smoothed his fingers over Hank’s head as he pressed his lips to the tight curls of his hair. He let Hank sob until he exhausted himself while he sat beside him on the bed, and when he’d calmed considerably Hank asked him what had happened. 

“You’re not gonna believe me,” Bear started, shaking his head as he lit a cigarette while Hank rested against a stack of pillows, “After you dropped like a sack of stones, I figured we were dead. The thing broke my arm, and there were more than a few close calls.”

He flapped his injured arm, drawing attention to it as if it weren’t obvious, before continuing, “Shit was real bad until, out of the blue, I kid you not, a fuckin’ bear came and chased the thing into the woods. I didn’t wait for either of ‘em to come back, borrowed a truck and hauled ass outta there.” 

Hank laughed softly, despite his surprise at the wild story, and he smiled at him, “‘Borrowed’, huh? How many ‘borrowed’ vehicles does that make so far?”

Bear pretended to lose track after counting to three on his fingers, and he shrugged nonchalantly as they shared a warm chuckle. Hank reached to hold his hand, finding comfort in the rugged texture of his knuckles as the pad of his thumb brushed over them. 

“Did...anyone else make it out?” Hank hesitated to ask, but he had to know. 

Bear glanced down, hiding his eyes behind his thick lashes, and his brow furrowed, “Just us three. Sharon’s...well she’s gonna need someone to watch her. She hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Hank ran his hands along his face, feeling the overwhelming despair of losing so many good people powerfully. He felt his chin wobble, and another bout of tears began. Bear curled up next to him, and they both simply held each other as they cried together.


End file.
